Interlude
by samguinity
Summary: My take on the events that fill the time-gap between Season 4 and Season 5. Clarke's struggles on the ground, Octavia's challenges in the bunker, and the group dynamics in space are all part of the fun! Find out how everyone grows together, apart, and into their new selves. Madi, Echo, Emori, John, Harper, Monty, Abby, Kane, Gaia, Indra, Miller, Jackson, and some new faces!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N** I own none of the characters from The 100, though a few new characters are introduced for the sake of plot. I also include some dialogue from Season 4, which is also owned by CW.

 **The Go-Sci Ring: Day 2 Since** _ **Praimfaya**_

Bellamy woke with a start, drenched in sweat, heart pounding in his ears. After the space pod had docked and they had managed to get the oxygenator running yesterday, they had simply curled up next to the air vents and gave thanks to be alive while the planet, _their_ planet, lay underneath a swirling storm of radiation.

Bellamy had fallen asleep unintentionally the night before, but his mind had stayed awake, replaying scenes of the last memories he had of Earth over and over: leaving O to fend for herself and their people, the sky that glowed a hazy orange and smelt hot and burnt, his last look toward the doors of the lab, and the sick pit in his gut at abandoning Clarke…

He roused himself, realizing he was alone in the bay, and his jaw clenched, furious at himself for sleeping; he should have made sure the Algae Farm was set up last night. Now, they had lost another day of food, and potentially fuel. He brought himself to his feet gingerly, still awkward in the radiation suit and fighting a lingering dizziness from yesterday's hypoxia, and walked down the hall to the Algae Station.

Raven stood at a desk, surrounded by an assortment of plastic and metal parts, studying a graphic on the computer screen. Her shoulders shifted to indicate she had noticed Bellamy's entry, but otherwise made no move to acknowledge his presence. She was working through the maximum yield from the algae ponds, and contemplating ways to increase, if not expedite, the yield.

The good news (though she hardly considered it "good") was that Clarke's sacrifice meant one less mouth to feed, one less pair of lungs to fill, and one less thirst to slake up here. The bad news was that they now had one less set of hands to help make the Go-Sci Ring their home for the next five years.

 _Actually_ , she thought to herself, subconsciously raising an eyebrow in concern, _we might have lost two good sets of hands_. She hadn't had the chance to look at Monty's hands for herself just yet- Harper was trying to tend to him at the moment.

Murphy and Emori were setting up the water reclaimer and Echo was helping her gather parts for the Algae Farm. The water reclaimer needed to feed into the Algae Farm, which would help somewhat with the purification, and its setup was fairly straightforward, so she had no qualms letting Murphy and Emori wrangle the pieces into place.

Echo worked in an uneasy silence, carrying plastic and metal parts to Raven and subsequently fitting them together when necessary for the Algae Farm. Raven didn't mind the silence- she knew Echo would adapt to life on the ring, but it would take time, and Echo could move with more ease than she could.

She and the others had already been up for a few hours, but when Echo had gone to wake Bellamy, Raven had touched her shoulder and shaken her head firmly. Seeing him up now, she was glad she had let him sleep.

"Raven, I- why didn't you wake me up?" Bellamy began, "I shouldn't have slept until we'd finished this. Have you gotten the system up?"

Her eyebrows raised with slight indignation, "No, the system's _not_ up yet, and I don't expect it to be until this afternoon." She paused, looking over with a grin at the blueprints and a blue, tarp-like sheet to her left, "But, I'm not trying to operate the original system… I might have found a way to increase our yield, which won't matter so much right away, but it might just be our ticket back to Earth when this extended vacation is over." She chuckled darkly, but with a hint of pride.

Bellamy's brow crinkled, and curious but clueless, he came to Raven's side to peer over her shoulder at the mess of graphics on the screen. Sudden recognition flared across his features as he turned to face her. "You're going to swamp the whole farm, and then- what are those, hanging bags?"

A pleased (nearly smug) grin broke across Raven's face as she nodded, "I'm going to build a small dock to walk across the pond, but essentially, yes. The designated ponds themselves will produce plenty to feed us, but they won't be enough to produce enough biofuel to get us back to the surface. So, I decided I would just have to make them large enough. I thought the water volume would be a problem, but algae doesn't care about how deep the water is, it's only concerned with surface area. So, I decided we could also have several hanging bags, which will increase the surface area for growth and will be fairly easy to harvest for consumption. That just leaves-" she gestured broadly to the entire Algae Farm bay, "the pond itself, which can be funneled directly to biofuel production. Think Monty's moonshine- on steroids."

Awe evident in his face, Bellamy shook his head. No matter how often Raven Reyes saved all their asses, her ingenuity never failed to surprise and amaze him. "Wow… I mean… What can I do? Where's everyone else? How can I help?"

A smile still playing on her lips, Raven explained that Monty and Raven were in the Medical Bay, Murphy and Emori were setting up the water reclaimer ( _and should nearly be done by now_ , she thought to herself), and Echo was in and out helping with the Algae Farm.

Her breath caught in her throat as the list ended there, but she tried to regain her composure and simply asked Bellamy to stop by the Med Bay to check on Monty and Harper. If they were done, she needed their help collecting anything and everything they could use as a tarp to construct the new pond and the hanging bags.

Bellamy noticed the silence that hung in the air as Raven paused for the unspoken name, and he felt a sharp twinge in his chest. Clarke… He felt even worse once he remembered Monty's hands. Monty, who had saved them all, yet again, and was usually considered last. Bellamy made a vow to himself that he would recognize Monty's help more readily while they were on the Go-Sci Ring, and with guilt welling up in his throat, he thanked Raven and turned to walk toward the Med Bay.

After they had assembled the framework for the pond and ran the water reclaimer a few times, everyone had dispersed to claim a room for the night. The Go-Sci Ring didn't have many true housing units, but a few rooms remained that had belonged to the guards, engineers, and medical personnel.

In his exhausted state, Bellamy had begun walking to Factory Station before he realized that his former home didn't exist anymore. Instead, he stopped in his tracks in front of a large porthole. The Earth hung perfectly in the window, a giant fiery mass of radiation against the dark vacuum of space. This was the room in which he lost Octavia at the Unity Day dance. His chest constricted at the memory, but he tried to force it down. Octavia was safe now, at least as long as the Grounders kept the peace in the bunker.

He looked at the windowsill and saw an empty bottle with "The Baton" written on the side. Mindlessly, he picked it up, feeling the thickness of the glass.

The events of the last year and a half played so loudly in his head, he nearly didn't hear Raven's footsteps as she walked up next to him.

"You think we can do this without her?" Raven asked, fatigue evident in her voice as she fought to keep it from breaking. Her eyes were slightly puffy, and Bellamy tried not to look surprised. Raven Reyes did not cry easily.

"If we don't she died in vain…" He pressed his lips together, trying to keep tears from forming as he remembered the last time he saw Clarke, the warmth of her body pressed against his when she hugged him, "and I'm not gonna let that happen."

Raven kept staring at the rolling clouds of radiation below them, hoping to herself that Clarke had made it back to the bunker, or maybe that she hadn't, and that it had been quick. She had given that much to Finn.

"You with me?" Bellamy had turned his head to her, a plea hidden in his voice, _Please, I can't do this on my own._

Raven's eyes scanned his face, "Always."

She'd be damned if she'd gotten them this far only for it to fall apart up here.

 **Earth: Day 2 Since** _ **Praimfaya**_

There was no sound. The first thing Clarke noticed was the perfect, eerie silence. No mechanical hum, no electric whir, no crickets, no rippling of the wind through the leaves, and no roar of the nuclear storm that had ravaged the world once again.

As her consciousness returned, aware only of the silence, she tried to open her eyes, but found that she couldn't. Panicking, her heart rate increased as she drew breath rapidly, trying to get her bearings. Suddenly, her senses were overwhelmed with pain, pain that was unmistakable. Her body felt like it was on fire, her stomach heaved, her head spun, and she realized her eyes were sealed shut. A silent scream welled up within her and burst out as a croaking groan, followed by a hacking cough that spat dark, viscous blood through burnt, cracked lips. The pain raced through her, and the bloodied, blistered mass of flesh, undistinguishable as even human, groped the floor with swollen fingers, trying to drag herself anywhere, towards anything.

She found nothing.

She heard nothing.

She saw nothing.

The only thing consuming her senses was the intense sensation of burning alive.

Her mind lost the fight to keep ahold of reality and she blacked out again, receding into the darkness.

 **The Bunker: Day 2 Since** _ **Praimfaya**_

When the doors to the office finally closed, Octavia tilted her head back, baring the smooth, tanned skin of her throat. Her skin already craved the sunlight. Closing her eyes, she released a long, slow, silent breath. Her heartrate slowed, and her muscles pulled inward, gradually shrinking her presence. Bellamy, Lincoln, and Indra were the only ones who had ever seen her withdraw into herself, and only Bellamy knew it for what it was: survival. Lincoln had accepted her silence, her stillness, easily enough, and to Indra, it was a warrior's mediation- the stalking silence of a huntress.

Yesterday had been an ordeal in itself: organizing living arrangements, sorting the children without families, calling for delegates to fill the _Wonkru_ council, announcing the formation of a mixed security detail. The clans had been restless, but mostly they were thankful for fresh air, for a bed, and to be alive another day.

Today, on the other hand, had been far more challenging. The joy of cheating death was beginning to fade as people remembered their loved ones, swallowed by _praimfaya_ , sacrificed so they could live, and those fallen in battle at the hands of another _kru._ Tensions were rising, and the politics of leadership were trying.

 _Azgeda_ and _Trikru_ both made it obvious they expected favoritism, especially _Trikru_ , which saw Indra's influence over Octavia as their path to power.

The delegates to the new council were mostly familiar faces to Indra, but _Azgeda_ had a new delegate, a man with auburn hair that he kept in several braids, all pulled together at the nape of his neck. He wore a long cloak over his armor, even in the relative warmth of the bunker, and he spoke quietly, his words drawn out in a manner that bordered between confidence and arrogance. Octavia wasn't sure she much cared for the man, but decided she would refrain judgement for the time being- there were still decisions to be made.

"There is much to be done for our survival here," began Octavia, once the twelve other delegates had assembled in a meeting room.

"We have already determined the living arrangements, but our first task as a council must be to establish the laws by which all people must abide." She glanced around the room, noting the way many delegates shifted in their seats. "Indra and I have already discussed the similarities between _Trikru_ and _Skai kru_ , but I would like to hear from the other delegates now."

 _Azgeda_ spoke first, then _Podakru_ ¸and on and on. Kane spoke last from _Skai kru_ , and thankfully, there were no arguments regarding his presence. The council agreed readily about most offenses and proceedings, but Octavia struggled to reconcile many Grounder traditions and expectations that _Skai kru_ had developed aboard the Ark with the more specific requirements of the bunker.

Many councilmembers wanted a civilization akin to that which she had grown up under, and while she acknowledged that life on the Ark was pragmatic, Octavia was far from eager to instate the policies of her childhood. While order was important within the bunker, they truly were the last of humanity now, and she wanted to ensure that enough people would survive so that a new generation could inherit the Earth when they left the bunker in five years.

"Everything we have down here is limited; everything is precious! If you do not rule mercilessly, people will think you are weak, Commander." The _Azgeda_ delegate reminded her, as though she could forget the severity of their situation.

In response, Octavia had stood slowly and fixed each of the twelve delegates in her stare.  
"If anyone here thinks me weak or unable to perform my duties, they may speak with me alone. Anyone who breaks the laws set forth by this council disgraces themselves, their former clan allegiance, and _Wonkru._ The fate of humanity rests in our hands. I will not be the leader that disgraces our chance at a future."

It was nearly mid-afternoon by the time the discussions, arguments, and compromises had finished. Most councilmembers were displeased in some way, but all begrudgingly admitted to themselves that Octavia had the makings of a good negotiator.

Kane had been uneasy. The laws by which Octavia had promised they would all live were not all familiar to him or his people yet. This was only the first day for legal proceedings; she knew everyone would be displeased in some way, but she had hoped not to become the leaders she had feared and hated her entire life.

Octavia opened her eyes, staring at the ceiling above her. She allowed air to fill her lungs until she thought she might burst- she could not let herself grow small. Here, she was not a sixteen-year-old child hiding beneath the floor. On Earth, she had become _Skairipa_ , Death from Above, but now, she needed to be her people's salvation from below. 


	2. Chapter 2

**The Go-Sci Ring: Day 3**

John Murphy tried to contain his irritation as he pissed into the makeshift piping that led to the water reclaimer. While this was admittedly better than being charred to bits by the death wave, he was not particularly enjoying the test runs drinking recycled urine.

As he finished, he heard a knock to the metal door behind him. The three soft raps were telling, and he felt the corner of his lip turn up slightly as he exhaled. _Emori_.

He turned and slid the door aside, leaning against the frame, smirking playfully. _What did a little stale urine matter?_ He thought to himself. _She was here._

Emori folded her arms across her chest and raised her eyebrows to look up at him, with his cocky, self-assured stance. Her entire life, she had fought to survive with her brother, and finally she found someone else to fight beside.

Her nose wrinkled at the toilet piping, but John stepped out, touching her arm lightly, and she felt into step next to him as they made their way back to the guard station they had claimed as a home.

Harper's eyes darkened as she unwrapped the bandages on Monty's hands. He had just finished setting up the last of the Algae Farm, and though she had firmly told him not to use his hands, they were all realizing how useless that advice has been. He was the only one raised on Farm Station, and the only one who seemed to really have the touch for setting up the system, so they couldn't really argue with the work he had done. They needed the algae to bloom or they would die.

Peeling back the wrap and the gauze, Harper exhaled slowly. The skin was papery and flaking away in large chunks, and the layers underneath were still a bright, pulsing red.

"Harper?" Monty asked, trying not to sound worried.

Trying to seem calm and collected, Harper typed a few notes into the MedBay computer, and turned his hands over, pretending not to hear Monty's unintentional hiss of pain.

"Radiation burns this severe can take a week or two to heal…" she began. "But we need to keep an eye on this to make sure they don't get infected. That means you can't take these bandages off, and you have to be careful not to aggravate the burns anymore."

Monty looked slightly relieved, but Harper knew he was still just as worried as her. Harper had warned him there might be some nerve damage, and they wouldn't know for sure until the surface burns were healed.

Wrapping his hands in the sterile gauze, Harper's chest ached. He loved her. He loved them all. Monty had been willing to sacrifice everything for their survival.

After everything was put away, she sat beside him on the table, leaning into him slightly. She turned and softly pressed her lips against his neck, "I love you, too. Thank you for saving us."

Color creeped up Monty's neck, but he breathed in the scent of her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. He kissed the crown of her head and her arms wrapped around his waist. He couldn't feel when she touched the tips of his fingers, but he didn't want to tell her until he was sure. He could still feel her warmth against his arms, and for the moment, that was all he needed.

 **Earth: Day 3**

The pain was endless. She was certain of it now. Her fight was over, but the pain remained. Her insides felt seared, and her eyes were still burned closed. Clarke drifted in and out of consciousness, only aware of the constant throbbing, burning fire that enveloped her, that had crawled inside her skin to burn away every cell.

Her mind tried to escape, tried to find somewhere beyond the pain, but the radiation spared nothing. She hallucinated wildly in her nightmares, flashing between memories and imagined scenes.

She smelt burning flesh and wood in the ruins of _Tondc_.

She saw the radiation-pocked faces of the children in Mount Weather.

Her mother crying tears of blood.

Octavia sprawled out on the ground with Luna holding her severed head.

Lexa's lifeless body lying in a pool of black blood.

Raven's arms and legs sticking out at strange angles, the bones jutting out through the skin.

Dark red blood oozing from Finn's abdomen as she felt him take his last breath.

The air being sucked out of her father's lungs as he spun wildly out into space.

Bellamy's face gasping for air as he reached the Ring to find it dark.

Alone in the lab, her body seized and trembled violently as faceless shadows chanted " _Wanheda"_ for all of eternity.

 **The Bunker: Day 3**

Thelonius Jaha sat on the edge of his bunk, his feet planted in a wide stance and his head hung between his shoulders. At first glance, he appeared lost in prayer, but his posture shifted as soon as Marcus Kane walked into the housing bay.

"Thelonius." The name rang out in the nearly empty barracks. It was midday and most of the others had been assigned a job or were getting their first week's ration.

Slowly, Jaha lifted his head as Kane reached the bunk, taking in the uneasiness in the younger man's gait. Nervousness didn't become him, Jaha decided.

"The Commander wants to see you." Kane's tone was blunt, but still, it was evident that the new Council had not taken Jaha's actions during the conclave lightly.

Sighing heavily, Jaha brought himself to his feet and followed Kane toward the Council's hall.

Octavia sat at the head of a long, wooden table. Her hair was in elaborate braids and bundled in an intricate pattern that displayed the commander's wheel on her forehead. Her chin was held high and she locked eyes with Jaha as soon as he entered the room.

 _She resembles Aurora in many ways,_ Jaha thought to himself. He felt a pang remembering her death, and wondered who Octavia might have become had Aurora been allowed to live. _Certainly no less stubborn, and no less independent,_ Jaha thought, his lips curling slightly as he remembered Aurora's other child. At the same time, however, the memory of Bellamy Blake made Jaha's face darken as he realized the position which had now fallen to Octavia.

 _The Commander_ , he mused, _she's still just a child… These people, the Grounders, will try to bend her to their will, to make her a pawn in their politics…_

He had managed to remain remarkably oblivious to the woman she had become. She was a warrior, a killer, a woman who had lost nearly everyone she had ever loved, and now a leader of not just his people, but of twelve peoples trying to become one. He couldn't see the darkness that still slept within her.

"Thelonius Jaha." Octavia's voice was damning, and for the briefest of moments, Jaha truly saw her- piercing eyes, skin blacked with wood ash, lips tight and a hint of arrogance in the way she held her body. She was something awesome to behold, and fear rose up in his throat.

"First, the council has acknowledged your role in locating the bunker that is Becca's crypt. For this, you have been pardoned of your crimes related to the City of Light."

Jaha tried not to let the relief show on his face. If she had been able to show him mercy in this, perhaps she had enough influence to spare him his life for keeping the bunker. He saw her again as the child they had found dancing at the moon for the first time. He could still help her as she tried to shoulder the burden of leadership.

"Nonetheless," Octavia's voice was steely. "You have been found guilty of treason for your actions during the conclave." She looked at him, her disgust evident as she spat out his crimes.

"Your disregard for the alliance of the 13 clans, your thievery of the bunker, and occupancy of said bunker with intentions to forcefully deny entry to the rightful victor and her clan are all acts of treason against _Won Kru_."

His heart beat faster, but Jaha ignored the panic and lifted his chin as a signal for her to continue.

Octavia's voice lowered and took on an even harder edge, "Though you would have sentenced myself and the other 12 clans to death, your fate will not be the same."

Her dark eyes locked onto his and a nearly imperceptible glimmer of disappointment sparked across her brow. Jaha realized in sudden clarity that the decision to spare him had not been hers.

Her voice rose again, "But that does not mean you will be spared the pain of our betrayal. Tomorrow, myself and each Council Member will administer four lashes each: one for your treachery in breaking the agreement of the conclave, one for your selfishness in taking the bunker for your people alone, one for refusing entrance to the true victor, and one for your intentions to forcibly deny _Won Kru_ the bunker."

Jaha's composure nearly slipped- there were twelve Council Members, and Octavia made thirteen. Fifty-two lashes. That many shock-lashes would stop his heart.

Then he realized- _The Grounders aren't going to use shock-lashes. They're going to flay my skin open with a whip_. A growing dread filled him and he bowed his head, trying to collect himself. If they hit his spine or head, he would die. If he managed to survive at all, his back would be so shredded that the skin would never fully heal.

"Once you have recovered," Octavia continued, noticing the fear playing out on Jaha's face and taking a moment to revel in it. _Good. Now he is taking me seriously._ "the Council has decided you will further pay for your transgressions in a manner that will benefit us all."

Jaha looked up at her, holding back a look of disbelief- _More?_

"Thelonius Jaha, you will spend the rest of your time here in the bunker working off the debt you now own to _Won Kru_ for sparing your life. A work detail has been determined, and you will follow it. To the letter."

With that, Octavia dismissed him, assigning two warriors to escort him until the morning.

 _If only you had kept a little more faith, Thelonius_ , she thought to herself as she watched him shuffle away.


	3. Chapter 3

5730 White Oak Cv, San Antonio, TX 78253 **Earth: Day 4**

It was past mid-day when Clarke groggily regained consciousness. Hesitantly, she struggled to open her eyes, and was relieved when they parted slightly. Her vision was blurry, but she could just make out the different blacks and grays of the medical bay. The lights had gone out during the second _praimfaya_ , but the ability to see anything made a sob rise in her chest. Her head was pounding, and her thirst suddenly overcame her.

Fumbling with her limbs, she tried to sit up, but resigned herself to scooting across the floor around the desk. Opening the bottom drawer, she found the flashlight Raven had kept there.

Sucking in a breath, she proceeded to drag herself across the floor to the cabinets against the wall. Small plastic bottles with color-coded lids lined each shelf, along with pipette tips, gloves, syringes, and plastic flasks for cell culture. Acids, bases, solvents, media, and blessedly, water.

She grabbed the bottle, twisted the cap, and gulped the ultra-purified liquid. She found eight more bottles in total, and drank two more of them. Her head cleared a little, but the water had burned on the way down, and her stomach rolled with nausea.

Gingerly, she took the flashlight and began to inspect herself in the slight reflection of the glass cabinets. She was still in the radiation suit, though the helmet was off. Though she could not see her body, everything still hurt and her legs and arms were swollen beneath the suit. While her fingers were agile enough to work the flashlight and unscrew the bottles, she found fine motor skills difficult, and she realized her hands shook violently when she held them up in front of her face.

In the glass, she could see a little of her face, black blood smeared down from the left corner of her mouth, open pustules oozing clear pus, and eyes staring through tiny, burned slits. As she finished her evaluation, she realized the seizures she hazily remembered had resulted in some other unpleasant side effects, and trying not to retch as the smell reached her, she realized she would need to change clothes.

She could barely move, she could barely see, and she was, in all likelihood, the only human left alive on the surface of the Earth.

 _But I am alive_.

With a scalpel, she carved a small tick mark into the side of the desk.

Day one.

 _I am here._

Madi _kom Ouskejon_ sat on the edge of her mother's bed, clumsily dabbing away the pus from her mother's sores with fingers still chubby with her childhood. Dun yellow concrete walls make the homemade bunker seem even smaller, but it seems too big for just the two of them.

Her father had found this bunker as a boy, and when word of _praimfaya_ spread, her parents had attempted to retrofit the bunker into something serviceable and stored all the food and supplies they could inside.

But no homemade seal could stand against _praimfaya_ , and in the first hour, her grandfather had started dying. After the first few hours, her grandfather, father, and aunt were all dead, and she and her mother had collapsed from radiation burns.

Her mother now lay on her bed, open sores covering her face and blisters bubbling across her skin. Madi knew her own skin was red and pocked, but her mother was dying. Vesta looked down at her own body, belly rounding with new life- a child that would never see this world- and then looked up at her beautiful, precious daughter, only six years old- the _nightblida_ she had hidden from the world- and saw the sickness that had been killing her was now fading from her daughter's face.

"Madi," she croaks, her voice strangled and weak, "Come here, my sweetheart."

Madi stops dabbing and takes her mother's hand, fear rippling across her face, "Mu-ma, I'm right here."

"Madi, you are so special my beautiful _nightblida_. This sickness is taking me, but you are strong. Shh, don't cry my darling," Vesta tries to lift her hand to wipe the tears from Madi's eyes, but she can barely raise her fingers. Unbeknownst to her, the blood of her unborn child has been keeping her alive thus far, but she was quickly losing the battle against the radiation.

"The spirit of the Commander has chosen you, Madi- has kept you safe. When I am gone, stay here as long as there is enough food, but you will need to leave and go east to Polis. There are people there." Vesta's mind was becoming addled by the radiation, and she knew she was dying.

"Live, Madi. Please."

 **The Go-Sci Ring: Day 4**

Echo watched silently as Raven typed code into a computer. She stood at an odd angle, her brace sticking out to the side, and it was evident she hadn't slept the night before. For a moment, Echo considered coming back later, but decided against it when she realized the other woman would most likely lose track of time if left on her own.

"Raven," she spoke quietly, stepping toward the desk so the bag she held was in view.

Raven jumped slightly at the sound, and turned to face Echo, "Those the parts I asked for?" She nodded toward the bag, which Echo opened to reveal an assortment of wire, metal, and batteries that were meaningless to her own eyes, but invaluable to Raven's. Raven had told all of them to look out for anything that might be useful and bring it to her, and Echo was her most frequent visitor.

"Excellent. Can you put them on that desk?" Raven gestured to the cluttered table that was already beginning to pile high. When she had placed the pieces on the table and made no move to leave, Raven moved over to the table and began to sort. While she fiddled with the pieces, she talked.

"I'm trying to fix our communications system. The oxygenator is all set up and should only need maintenance about once a month. Same with the water reclamation system. And now that the Algae Farm is more-or-less set up, that's just a waiting game until the first bloom."

She had started three piles, one for things she knew would be useful, one for things she knew wouldn't, and one for things she was still deciding on.

"If I can get everything set up, I should have us talking to the bunker in a few days. We'll have to play around with the frequency and the range, but from what I heard when we spoke with them before we launched, they seem to have some decent communication technology, so it's just up to me to fix it on our end."

Raven began to explain the technicalities of each part she was sorting, and while Echo continued to listen, little of it made sense to her. She liked to come to Raven though, because she always had something planned and always seemed eager to share.

She wasn't sure who she was up here. There was no room for spies, warriors, or diplomats in space. She was no longer _Azgeda_ , and even the Earth had been taken from her now. She felt like the invader now, alone with _Skai kru_ and a mutant.

She felt more comfortable around Bellamy than any of the others, but after the last of the Algae Farm has been assembled yesterday afternoon and Raven told them all it was just a waiting game, he had disappeared. Echo had found him easily enough, but he had been sitting on the floor in a small room and staring at the walls.

Figuring he needed a chance to lick his wounds, she had instead made herself busy and continued collecting for Raven.

"Raven," Echo spoke suddenly, interrupting Raven's detailed account of how to reconnect the intercom system within the Ring.

Echo tilted her head as she looked at the mechanic, "You should sleep. You said it would be a waiting game, yes? We have a long time to wait, and you will work better when rested."

Though Raven looked a little put out from the interruption, she looked down at herself as if conducting her own evaluation.

"Okay." She paused for a second, then turned to leave the room.

"Hey Echo? Thanks for the stuff."

 **The Bunker: Day 4**

Abby tried to keep her hands steady as she finished dressing the gashes that covered Thelonius's back. The Council had carried out the first part of his punishment that morning in the central hall, and the result was enough to make bile rise in her throat. Lacerations covered his back and continued down to his legs. Strips of flesh were missing in some places, and the red and white speckling of flesh was visible beneath the blood that welled in the cuts each time he moved.

Jaha was beginning to regain consciousness as she dabbed an antibacterial cream into his wounds. He had blacked out after the 36th hit, which was far longer than most expected him to last. _Skai kru_ had been horrified at the spectacle, while most of the other clans were disgusted that he was received so light a punishment.

Abby hadn't been forced to watch because she had to set up the medical unit that would treat him to make sure he wouldn't become infected. She was forbidden, however, from treating the pain.

She was finishing the last of the lacerations when an older woman walked into the clinic holding a poultice.

"Abby Griffin?" The woman spoke softly, just above a whisper.

Abby turned from Thelonius to take in the woman standing in the doorway. "May I help you?"

Smiling gently, the woman replied, "My name is Emelie _kom Yujleda_. I am also a healer by my people. While my people have no love for Thelonius, we acknowledge the Commander and the Council's wish that he not die."

Abby looked down at the mangled pile of flesh that was Thelonius Jaha and tried to contain a harsh laugh. "No love? I can certainly see that. And as _you_ can see," she said, gesturing to the cream covering the marks, "I am doing my best to make sure he doesn't die."

Bemused, the woman looked Abby up and down, "I see you are trying, girl, but a wise healer learns when there is a teacher. That will stop external infection, but it might not help the shock. This will." She laid the poultice down on the paper sheet, looked quizzically at Abby once more, and turned on her heels and left.

Abby stared after her, but let the poultice where it was and signaled to Jackson.

"Jackson, I'm taking a break. Thelonius's back is done, please make sure he gets some fluids in him."

Jackson nodded as Abby stripped off her gloves and left, but when she turned the corner, he picked up the poultice and laid it against the deepest cuts on Jaha's skin.

Abby might be hesitant to accept Emelie's help, but he was not.

Rushing outside, Abby tried to clear her head. She missed Clarke bitterly, and now, to see Thelonius so badly wounded, even for reasons she understood, she was thinking again of her vision of Clarke with radiation burns covering her body. It had felt so _real_.

The halls became narrower as she neared the housing bay. Her mind was reeling, but her feet moved automatically until she turned a corner and ran flat into Marcus Kane.

"Marcus… I-" she started to apologize, glancing up by force of habit to meet his eyes. The pain she found there made her suck in a breath.

"Abby." His breath came out in a murmur, as he grabbed both her arms to steady her.

The closeness of his fingers on her arms, the hurt in his face, and the crashing wave of emotions within her combined in a wave of longing so strong she leaned into him.

Momentary shock and confusion crossed Kane's face, but they were quickly replaced by a tenderness and a lingering desperation. He pulled her to him, kissing her hair, and bringing her more securely into his arms. When she lifted her eyes to his, he touched her cheek softly, cupping her face and brought her lips to his. It was a soft kiss, the kind they had shared many times before, but this time, he felt an urgency behind her tenderness.

Her hands found his hair and pulled him back to her. His hand found her waist, and in a moment, they were pressed against the side of the corridor, kissing like teenagers- all heat and skin and limbs intertwined.

Kane broke the kiss first, and touching the small of her back, led Abby back to his room.


	4. Chapter 4

**Earth: Day 7**

The silence still unnerved her. Clarke wished Raven were here to help her get the lights back on. To get the lab put back together. She wished Bellamy were here to put her back together. Not for the first time, she wondered if the signal had been enough, if Raven had gotten the doors open, if they had made it.

The water was gone now, and she had tried collecting her urine, but it was black with blood. She had dragged herself up onto one of the rolling desk chairs, but she hadn't been able to stand yet. She knew there was still water at the bunker at the island, but while she had survived the onslaught of _praimfaya_ , she had no desire to go back into the radiation.

As she ran her dry tongue across her teeth, an idea came to her. Sitting in the hospital gown she had changed into from the soiled radiation suit, she rolled herself over to the cabinets and searched again. This time, she found plastic tubing, a needle, and a beautiful, clear bag: an IV. She hooked up the bag and carefully, injected the needle, and leaned back slowly. As the fluid filled her veins, she felt almost human for the first time in a long time.

 **The Go-Sci Ring: Day 7**

The gym had been Monty's idea. He had been spending most of his time in the MedBay with Harper, and noticed the door to the rehabilitation center a few nights ago. When they opened the door, it seemed to function more as a storage closet than anything else, and everyone else had put it from their minds. But last night, the room had been tugging at the edge of Monty's brain.

He still couldn't do much with his hands, so he gingerly opened the door with his elbow and looked inside again. As he waded through the boxes on the floor, he realized there was a treadmill in the corner and several boxes of resistance bands and light weights.

His first thought had been to use the resistance bands with the Algae Farm, but he wasn't sure what for. After a few moments, he realized the equipment would be useful simply as a way to pass the time, keep their strength up, and keep everyone from going crazy. Five years with six other people was not generally too good for the psyche.

He brought up the idea to Raven in the morning, and they discussed how it would impact the oxygenator (it wouldn't, Raven decided), and then brought the others to the rehab room.

Everyone loved the idea. Echo and Bellamy had begun clearing spaces in the room, and now, Echo was running on the treadmill, legs flying beneath her as her arms pumped back and forth. Bellamy had taken a turn first, but had since disappeared again. Everyone knew he went to the SkyBox, but no one had the heart to try to make him sleep closer to the rest of them.

Raven, unsurprisingly, had taken up residence in the room closest to the Central Command Center, the Earth Monitoring System. Monty and Harper had claimed the room nearest to the MedBay, and theirs was a true housing unit, with a built-in bunk and living area. Echo had taken the couch in an old guard's break-room, and John and Emori had claimed the guard station in lieu of another housing unit, choosing to pilfer the room for a mattress and other "home goods." They had left the single bed in the housing unit, assuming Bellamy would live there, but in the past week, he had disappeared each afternoon once the day's work was complete.

Bellamy didn't even try to rationalize his behavior. Each night, he slipped away to the SkyBox and wandered the cells of the 100. He had tried logging into the computer to figure out which rooms had belonged to which delinquents, but he didn't have access anymore, and his hacking skills were subpar. He knew Raven or Monty could have gotten in without any trouble, but he didn't want to explain his need to be there.

He hadn't had any trouble finding Clarke's cell. It was the only one decorated with charcoal depictions of Earth. _Ha_ , he thought, _the whole Earth is charcoal now- and you along with it, Clarke._ He stopped walking and opened the door. He sat down, where he always did, back to the cot, so he could take in as many of her drawings as possible. _I'm so sorry._ He inhaled through his nose, squeezing his eyes closed, and sat.

Sometimes he laid on the cot and stared at the ceiling, and other times he wandered through the others' cells, stopping at one or two to imagine who had sat there before him. _100, and they all believed in me- all listened to me. Even as I led them to their deaths, or temporary safety, but ultimately their deaths_.

He wondered how many of the 100 were in the bunker, who Octavia and Kane and Abby had chosen to survive. O was there. She would protect them. A sad smile began on his lips. _She'll be a force to be reckoned with. I just wish I could be there for her, I wish I could help protect her._

 **The Bunker: Day 7**

Niylah loved the children. Octavia had asked her to help watch over and instruct the young ones orphaned by _praimfaya_ , and it was a daily joy. Most of the time. There were several children old enough to understand the circumstances of the last few months, and their grief and fear had manifested in some behavioral issues and a strong hatred for her.

Though most of the children were of _Skai kru,_ some of the other clans had saved what children they could. As a result, 46 children resided within the bunker, 17 of which were orphaned and had no other family, 14 of those were _Skai kru,_ the other two were _Trikru,_ and one was _Azgeda_.

All families with children lived in the same housing bay, regardless of clan affiliation. The orphaned children lived in the same barracks, as did Niylah and several other young people who had been appointed by the Council to help care for the children. The Council still disagreed on how best to instruct the children, so for now, Niylah mostly ensured the children got their rations and talked and played with the younger ones.

When they asked her to tell them stories before bed, she told them of her village, of her family, of the Earth before they arrived. She told them stories Clarke had told her of the Ark, and some of the legends she remembered from when she was a girl.

Tonight, just as she had started the story, Octavia was passing by the barracks. She had been keeping an eye on the children as well, but from a distance. She was not particularly comfortable around them, especially the older ones who knew who she was before she came to Earth.

The legend was an old one, a myth passed down for thousands of years from the Ancient Greeks- a story of a tree with golden apples guarded by a ferocious dragon. Octavia heard the familiar words, and strode over to the semicircle of children. To everyone's surprise, she gracefully folded her legs beneath her and sat down to listen.

Trying to keep her voice from changing, Niylah continued on, "The dragon was the largest in all the land, with beautiful golden scales that shone in the midday sun. He curled himself around the ancient trunk of the apple tree, ready to devour any who came near. But our hero did not suffer faintness of heart or cunning. He took from his pouch a bone flute and began to play a song so sweet and so sad, that the tree itself nearly wept. The dragon looked around at the noise, but the flute was enchanted, and the dragon could not see from whence the music came. Bit by bit, the melody slowed and began to sound like sleep."

Here, Niylah paused and hummed a short, beautiful melody as she rocked back and forth to the tune.

The story continued, and when it was over, the children stumbled to their bunks, and Octavia rose to her feet.

"That was a beautiful retelling, Niylah."

Niylah looked up, surprised at the Commander's acknowledgement.

"You've heard the legend?"

An expression of warm nostalgia crossed Octavia's face in a ghost of a smile.

"Many years ago, when I was still a girl. My mother knew all the old myths and legends. Bellamy would tell me the stories to help me sleep. I still remember them all."

Niylah looked at the Commander, seeing a hint of softness she had not expected.

"You should stop by more often, _Heda_. The children would like to hear your stories."

Octavia looked around the barracks once more. _Sixteen children without a soul in the world… At least I had Bell._ She remembered the creeping loneliness of living hidden beneath the floor, and decided she would come back tomorrow.

"I just might, Niylah. Thank you again."


	5. Chapter 5

**Earth: Day 10**

For the first time since _praimfaya_ , Clarke stood. Shakily she gripped the desk and forced her legs, not as swollen now, to hold her up. It was only a few seconds, but it was exhilarating. Her face was still pocked, her eyes were still sunken, and her hair had fallen out in patches, but there was no longer blood in her urine, and while she might've imagined it, she thought it hurt a little less to breathe.

She shifted the bottles to the side of the desk and counted the days since she had first woken up, realizing she didn't know how many days it had really been since _praimfaya_. How many days she had been more alone than any human had ever been on Earth.

This morning, she had poked a tiny hole in a bottle of base and let it drip into a collection pan- just for a sound besides her own breathing. As she listened to the methodic ping of the liquid, Clarke realized she would soon be able to look for more water, and hopefully food.

 **The Go-Sci Ring: Day 10**

Harper sat alone at the desk in the MedBay, flipping through the pages to an old medical textbook. All the Ark's files had been uploaded to the computer system, but the old textbook remained- the companion of every doctor that had served aboard the Ark since its inception. It was still early, Monty was still asleep in their shared room, but she had slipped out about an hour ago, unable to sleep any longer.

She had been having nightmares the last three nights, strangely vivid dreams where she felt like she was high on Jobi nuts again, seeing the world in a daze of green technicolor. She saw people with their skin melting off and with holes burned through their body from acid rain. Common sense told her she was just having a hard time adjusting to life back in space, no longer locked up or fighting to survive every day, but common sense didn't help her sleep.

The textbook was a way to kill time, but it also made her feel useful. Harper understood why Abby loved this stuff. She had been a gunner for Bellamy because it made her feel useful and it made her feel strong, but this time, something she read might mean the difference between life and death if anyone got hurt or fell sick.

Just as she turned the page to begin the next chapter on Cardiology, she heard footsteps down the hall. When she saw Echo's lithe form outside the medical bay, lingering for a moment, she quietly got up to look outside.

Echo had already continued down the hall, but she turned quickly when she heard Harper open the door.

"Good morning, Echo. What are you doing up so early?"

Echo tilted her head slightly at the question, obviously not thinking it was particularly early.

"The gym." She answered curtly.

Harper paused for a moment, contemplating. "Do you mind if I tag along?"

Echo didn't reply, but looked Harper up and down and clucked her tongue before turning back and entering the makeshift gym. While it wasn't a warm invitation, Harper took it as acceptance, and followed after her.

Echo ran first, while Harper took inventory of the weights and began lifting, feeling the welcome strain against her muscles. After Echo finished running, Harper began, feeling the pent-up energy within her tumble free as her feet pounded methodically against the belt.

As she ran, she watched Echo, whose stretching morphed gracefully into fighting stances. Fluid movements of her arms and legs blended together, attacking an invisible opponent mercilessly and defending herself subtly. The entire sequence mimicked a dance, and Harper was in awe. Before long, she stopped the treadmill.

"Can you teach me?" Curiosity was evident in her voice, and a pleased smile formed at Echo's lips.

"You want to learn to fight like a Grounder, sky girl?" Echo replied, unable to keep a trace arrogance from her voice.

"You're a sky girl now, too, Echo." Harper replied, trying not to grin. "Teach me how to fight. I'd like to believe we won't need it back on the ground, but even if we don't, it'll help keep us from going crazy up here."

Echo blew air through her nose in a silent laugh, and crouched in front of the blonde girl, showing her how to hold her center of balance. "Then let's fight."

 **The Bunker: Day 10**

Jaha's back and legs were beginning to heal, Abby had assured her, but Octavia had wanted to see for herself. She had begun to make a habit of walking through the dormitories in the evenings, and while she knew it made her security detail uneasy, it eased her mind and it helped her sleep to see so many warm bodies, alive and well. Her dreams were haunted by corpses, and the sound of an echoing gunshot. She hadn't slept much when she had been on the surface, and under the floor, she slept even less.

Tonight, however, she took a detour on the way to the dormitories and stopped by the MedBay to check on Jaha's progress.

She had found Abby and Kane sitting together, fingers intertwined, and the rest of the MedBay empty except for Jaha's cot. He was laying on his stomach, with fresh white bandages on his back, and his face was puckered in a grimace.

 _Good. Abby has kept to her word about the pain medication._

Though he was well-bandaged, Octavia could see deep purple bruising on his sides from where the blood had pooled. Nonetheless, he appeared in decent health to her, so she turned to Abby and Kane, who had broken apart when she entered.

Concern was etched in both their brows, but Octavia merely gestured toward Jaha's cot, "When will he be fit for work?"

Irritation flicked in Abby's eyes, and she beckoned Octavia closer to the cot.

"See for yourself."

Peeling off the gauze, Abby revealed the angry red lacerations that criss-crossed Thelonius's back. The bruising was even worse up close, and the places where his skin had been sliced open had puffed up in pink ridges. One of the members of Octavia's guard detail sucked in a breath at the sight, and she shot a glare over her shoulder.

The damage was bad, but she had known it would be. _More importantly, he will scar,_ she thought.

Though she and several others had wanted him to pay with his life, she had to admit that Jordyn's logic was sound. When Kane had begged for mercy for Jaha's crimes, the _Podakru_ delegate had suggested they spare his life but mark him for his crimes and force him to pay a lifetime of retribution. She had argued that this way, he would act as a living reminder to mind the laws of _Wonkru_ , and though Octavia had harbored some doubts, she was also aware that he knew how many of the large-scale life support systems worked better than anyone else, and was a first-rate engineer. Though she hated to admit it, it was pointless to kill him now, since he was already in the bunker, though she decided she could kill him later if he failed in his retribution.

The idea slipped through her thoughts like an icy tendril, and she tried to push aside the mental image of running her knife along his throat and watching him struggle to take his last breath- just like the others in the conclave he hadn't believed she could win, just like her mother on the day she was floated. His betrayal was personal for her. Thelonius, the man of "faith" had spared none for the girl raised under the floor. He'd had her locked up, sent to live with criminals, because of a crime that wasn't even hers. He had brought false salvation with the City of Light and brought about so many deaths and so much pain. To her, he deserved no mercy. In her mind, no degree of skill was worth the chaos that would ensue if her mercy encouraged lawlessness. But for the sake of the Council she so desperately hoped would work, she let him live.

Satisfied that Thelonius was making good progress and would likely be ready for work in a week or two, Octavia spun on her heels and tried to lose herself in the land of the living, wishing (not for the first time) that Bellamy were here.


	6. Chapter 6

**Earth: Day 17**

There was nothing left for her in the lab.

Clarke knew that she had to get to the bunker if she wants to survive- at least there she knew there would be food and water to hold her for a little while longer until the Earth could heal.

 _Do I even want to survive anymore?_

Shaking her head, she tried to clear the thought from her mind. Of course she wanted to survive, she _needed_ to survive. She didn't know her friends were dead. They could be safe in the Go-Sci Ring right now.

 _Raven could have saved them, she could have found a way. If anyone could have saved them, it was Raven._

 _Of course, if they are alive up there, they probably think I'm dead._

She took a deep breath, trying to steady her thudding heart. Rather they were alive or dead, there were still those in the bunker- Octavia, Kane, and her mother. They would return to the surface in five years, but five years felt like an eternity laid out in front of her.

Leaning against the desk for support, she thought about the bunker on the island.

 _If I want to get there, I'm going to have to start now. I don't have enough oxygen for my suit to make it that far in this radiation, and I can still barely walk for more than an hour without needing to sit down._

Gritting her teeth, she put on the orange radiation suit once again, having patched the helmet as best she could, and gingerly made her way up the steps to enter the wasteland that lurked behind the doors.

A few scraggly trunks remained, but all the vegetation within sight had turned a sickly yellow color. Thick masses of clouds still hung in the sky, but they were all discolored to resemble curdled milk streaked with rusty bands of radiation. The wind stirred the dead foliage, but nothing else moved in the barren landscape except for Clarke as she ambled slowly toward the lighthouse.

 **The Go-Sci Ring: Day 17**

Monty woke to Harper's fingertips tracing the bare skin along his ribs. He mumbled sleepily into her hair, and he blinked open his eyes to see a messy nest of blonde hair snuggled against him.

Harper exhaled slowly, her breath dancing against his collarbone, and Monty felt a tingling sensation ripple throughout his body. _Oh, this woman._

Realizing he was awake, Harper tilted her chin up to kiss him gently, ignoring the morning breath that still clung to them both. His lips were warm and pressed hungrily back against hers.

Harper smiled, and he could feel it on his mouth. He sighed in pleasure; waking up beside her was one of the truly good things left in this world.

Her body pressed against his- warm, bare skin beneath an old blanket, worn soft from years of use. Harper ran her fingers through his hair and cupped his face to hers in a long, drawn out kiss before moving her way down his body.

Monty reached out to caress her shoulder, trying to lightly brush her skin in the way he knew drove her crazy, but as he did, he stopped suddenly.

He couldn't feel her.

His heart felt like it had fallen onto the floor. _I can't feel her._

His hands moved again, and he nearly groped her shoulder.

Harper paused for a minute, her lips still on his lowest rib. "Monty?" she asked, licking her bottom lip, "are you alright?"

He tried to regain his composure and focused on moving his hand along her shoulder and down her arm, but he wasn't sure if he was actually touching her. His perception of pressure was off, too. He inhaled slowly and squeezed his eyes together, nodding slightly.

She didn't buy it for a second.

Harper sat up, her body creating a silhouette in the morning light. She cocked her head to look at him, still laying on his back, with his hand on his stomach. Tears had started to leak from his eyes, though she could tell he was fighting them.

"Monty… What's wrong?"

He gulped at looked up at her- she was intoxicatingly beautiful, and so capable and so smart. He hadn't wanted to tell her. He didn't want her to worry, didn't want her to blame herself for the fact that he hadn't regained the feeling in his fingertips. That his motor skills were so rusty he couldn't even hold a screwdriver for more than a few seconds before he started shaking or forgot to concentrate and the muscles gave in. That typing was nearly impossible now. That he didn't know how he would ever be useful again on the Ring. That he _couldn't feel her_.

In defeat, he held up his hands, still slightly red and puffy, and peered up at her.

"I can't feel."

Harper looked like she had been punched in the stomach as she doubled over to take his hands. Grief fell over her faces as she palpated from his palm to each of his fingers.

"Where?" she asked, eyes fliting to him but returning quickly back to his hands.

"The fingertips, and the outer edge of the left one." Monty's voice was hollow.

"I'm so sorry," Harper whispered, bringing his fingers up to her lips and pulling him up to a sitting position. He looked at her, pain in his eyes but not a shred of accusation.

"Harper, you did everything you could. This isn't your fault. I just-" He choked on the words, "I don't know how to be useful anymore."

She took him in her arms and brought him to her. Her blonde hair tickled his cheeks and he nearly smiled.

"Monty, you'll always be useful. You're one of the smartest people I've ever known, and you've got the biggest heart out of anyone." Harper paused for a moment, moving her hands down his back in a soothing motion. "You were willing to sacrifice everything to keep us alive. We'll figure this out, the feeling might still come back. And if not, we'll just work around it, like we always do."

He steadied his breathing, feeling a little sheepish for crying. "I just- I just can't touch you the right way anymore…"

A wolfish smile appeared on Harper's face, "Well how about you let me see how much you can feel then?"

Color rose to his cheeks as she resumed kissing him, but the sight and feel and smell of her was too much. He pulled her to him and kissed her, feeling her body, soft and supple, on his.

The couple was conspicuously absent for the rest of the morning.

 **The Bunker: Day 17**

Thelonius bent down to touch his toes as Abby watched his shirtless back to ensure his scars didn't tear open. After a few more minutes of stretching, Abby gave a curt nod to Jackson, who slid open the clinic door to beckon to Octavia and Indra.

The two women studied Jaha as he pulled a worn grey shirt over his head. His first day of duty will be to _Trikru,_ and Indra will not spare him any hardship.

Life in the bunker was not easy, and there was plenty of work to go around. Octavia had split _Skai kru_ essential personnel based on skill set- engineers and mechanics, farmers, hydro, aero, security, medical, and civilian- for the children and those without practical skills for the bunker. From there, she had asked the council members to select people for each group, and she had rearranged as necessary.

Approximately a third of _Trikru_ had been selected for hydro, which also included sanitation within the bunker. Indra intended to make good use of Jaha as part of a sanitation team- removing garbage, sorting out what would go to Farm Sector for composting, and helping clean filters for the water treatment facility.

The scowl never left Indra's face as she nodded her head toward the door. She wasted no pity on the man who would have doomed her and her people to die yet again. They had received a second chance because of Octavia, and Thelonius's treatment of her second would not go unpunished.

A grim smile crossed Jaha's face as Indra led him to his first duty station- _So it begins._

Jaha thought he might smell like sewage for the rest of his time in the bunker.

Though he was well aware of the logistical needs for a sanitation system for so many people, he had never had first-hand experience dealing with its daily maintenance. He now had a greatly increased respect for those who dealt with in on the Ark. The day had been both physically exhausting and mentally draining- there was constant upkeep, and the hours became monotonous and while he tried not to succumb to his pride, humiliating.

His new existence was nothing short of slavery, and though he was not surprised at Octavia's bitterness, it had revealed to him that someone else wanted to keep him alive on the council. He wondered if his engineering skill had been enough to sway the Council's favor, and who it was that have spared his life.


	7. Chapter 7

**Earth: Day 32**

It had been a grueling trip, and her initial worries had been well-founded. Her body had still been too weak to go very far on her own, even the few miles to the bunker.

Clarke had made it nearly three-quarters of the way before her oxygen had run out. The rest of the journey had consisted of her shuffling, falling, and eventually crawling toward the lighthouse.

The Earth was so desolate, it seemed as though no living thing remained on the island besides her. Black and brown cracked branches littered the ground, but a hint of the familiar smell of decay wafted across the air, proclaiming to an oblivious Clarke that life did indeed survive: several species of bacteria had withstood the storm and now rose up to reclaim larger organisms. The process was sparse on the island, but on the mainland, the foothills of Mount Weather flowed into a valley where, slowly, organic matter was returned to soil, and though it was invisible to her, the survivors were tilling the soil for a new Garden of Eden.

But the landscape was still harsh and unforgiving. Her skin had begun to break out in a mass of blisters, and she had coughed up blood more than once.

Once she was inside the bunker, she found water and food, and had spent the last two weeks regaining her strength.

Now, she sat on the bed, legs crossed on a once-white comforter, now graying from recent use. Sheets of paper lay in front of her, lines of words penned in black ink filling each one. Columns, tallies, and folds all adorn the sheets, but the overall effect is meticulous and neat. She had finally cataloged everything in the bunker- every can of food, every iodine tablet, every spool of gauze, every book. It was an exercise of survival, because now she knew exactly what she had and how she could ration it. It was also an exercise for her mind- the searching, recording, and planning were all soothing for her. Lexa had always thought she fretted too much over the details, but the details had always kept her alive, and this was no different.

This time, however, it would only keep her alive for so long. Though she had survived the onslaught of the radiation, it had been a miracle even with her nightblood. She doubted she could survive in the elements on her own- there would be nothing else alive to sustain her, and all the water would still be too irradiated to consume without shutting down her body again.

Her skin was healing again, but her hair was not. It hung in limp patches over her skull- damage from the radiation that even nightblood could not reverse. The blonde color had dulled to an ashen gray, and her face was hollow. She had survived, but at a cost no human had paid in 98 years. She realized this must have been how the Grounder survivors felt when their home was destroyed so long ago.

She unfolded her legs from beneath her and went to stand in front of the bathroom mirror.

A pair of scissors sat on the edge of the sink, and she picked them up tentatively.

 _Well, anything is better than this._ With that thought, she took the patches and sheared them close to her scalp.

It was closer to a pixie cut than a military buzz, but the difference still shocked her.

Her newly cropped hair accentuated the gauntness of her cheeks, and the weight her body had shed from the radiation sickness.

 _At least it'll grow back even_. She could only hope the same for the rest of her.

Her appearance didn't matter so much aesthetically, but she didn't have much else to do in the aftermath of _praimfaya._ For now, keeping busy was all that mattered.

 **The Go-Sci Ring: Day 32**

Raven woke to the sound of Murphy's fist hammering against the door.

She opened her eyes groggily. _It's the middle of the night- If they broke something else, I fucking swear..._

 _Bang. Bang Bang Bang. Bang Bang. Bang._ The sound grew more insistent.

Groaning, she pushed the gray sheet down and swung her good leg over the couch and onto the floor. With fluid ease, she slid on her brace and tightening it, started toward the door.

"What?" Her voice was impatient as the door slid open, but the look on Murphy's face caused an instant transformation in her demeanor.

"Oh. Oh my God, did it happen?" Her eyes widened, and she was already walking toward the Algae Farm before he could answer.

Smirking, he turned to follow her, "Monty said to come get you. The bloom happened sometime in the last twenty minutes." His excitement was perceptible, even though he tried to conceal it.

"Good. Okay, so that means we're in business. Have you seen it?"

John shook his head. For the last month, they had all been staring at a pool of recycled water, which was wholly uninteresting, apart from a damp, organic smell. Nonetheless, the makeshift pond helped settle everyone's nerves and Monty assured them that life was growing- it was just too sparse to color the water.

Overnight, large patches of spirulina had accumulated in the pond, and the hanging bags were a vibrant hue of green. A spout ran down from each of the hanging bags, and when Raven and John finally arrived, the other five residents were already standing on the dock Raven had fashioned, trying to attach a hose to one of the bags.

The hoses would funnel the consumable algae down to an improvised filter. Monty had explained that spirulina have a unique cell shape that meant easy collection- simply passing the contents of the bag through a piece of fabric would leave a thick paste on the cloth that they could collect to eat or store.

The process of collection was far more straightforward that Raven had hoped, and they were able to replenish the bags as they went along. Seeing the brilliant green taking over the room, Raven felt her heart swell with pride- the algae was beautiful. Sure, it smelt a little fishy from the alkaline water, and the consistency was something she doubted she would ever enjoy, but it would sustain them, and it would get them back to the ground.

When the last of the bags had been emptied, everyone helped carry the collected paste back to Monty and Harper's room. Their housing unit had a small kitchenette, and though the algae could be eaten raw, no one was particularly keen on the idea just yet. Murphy's cooking skills were their best bet to make the algae palatable for the next five years. Raven thought she even saw Bellamy smile as she teased Murphy about the cooking, though it was only fleeting. He had grown even more reserved in the past month, but Raven knew everyone had to deal with their ghosts in their own way, so she hadn't pushed him. Maybe the algae bloom would bring him back around.

While Murphy fiddled around in the kitchen in an attempt to make a type of cracker or unleavened bread, Monty had a different idea to put the spirulina to work.

He began assembling materials for a filter and a still, but his hands were still clumsy. He wanted to filter out the excess salt and dry the paste first before adding it to new water to ferment. For awhile, everyone mostly ignored his growing frustration, but when Monty dropped a piece of the still, he swore and got up to leave.

 _Great. And now I can't even make moonshine. Hah. Wouldn't the Guard find this hilarious. Free again in space, and physically unable to perform any former mischief._

Fuming, he strode through the hallways aimlessly, unsure where to go. He finally stopped in front of a large porthole that looked down on Earth.

The African continent stood out in relief against the ocean, but the clouds of radiation had dissipated significantly over the last month.

He swore again, wishing desperately that North America had been in sight. He reached inside his jacket to feel a letter, still unopened, with his name scrawled on the front.

He missed Jasper.

 _I wish you were here. I don't know if I can do this without you._

The paper was thick enough for him to feel, and it helped to ground him in reality. He laid his hands on the windowsill and tried to collect himself. _Not today. I'll read it, but not today._

He glanced back at the shell of the Earth below them. _I should go back. But what if I can't get this still together?_

Head swimming, he didn't even notice as Emori crept into view. She studied him as he stood, staring down at his shaking hands.

"Monty." It was a statement, not a question. Harper had wanted to come, but when Emori had started out first, she had let her go. This was something Emori knew how to deal with far better than she did.

Monty looked up at her, partly ashamed for losing his temper.

"I'll help." Emori said plainly, without a hint of pity. She knew what it was like to struggle with her hands, but she had a lifetime of practice.

Painstakingly, the two of them constructed the filter and still, and with a jubilant grin, Monty delivered the promise of moonshine by the end of the month.

 **The Bunker: Day 32**

Gaia sat quietly with her legs folded beneath her in the chapel. Though _Skai kru_ had a much different faith than her people, the bunker's church had a certain calming quality that she enjoyed.

Her eyelids fluttered slightly as she thought, but her breathing was methodical, her spine erect. She was praying for her people.

The bunker promised safety from _praimfaya_ , but some tensions were beginning to rise, especially between _Trikru_ and _Azgeda._ Though Octavia had managed to keep the peace for now, the taunts and threats were growing worse between the clans each day. Without a true Commander to rule them, Gaia wasn't sure how much longer violence would be avoided. People in the bunker that had been raised as blood enemies were now expected to act as neighbors, and while everyone knew survival depended on peace, it was easy to forget in a moment of anger.

What's more, she was praying for herself. Without a true Commander, her sense of purpose now evaded her.

 _The time for Commanders is past,_ her mother had said. A soft tinge of jealousy welled in her throat before she could push it away. Jealousy was unbecoming of a flamekeeper. Even if her own mother had chosen Octavia as the daughter she always wanted.

She knew her hurt was not fully justified- her mother was a warrior and leader and had wanted someone to take up her legacy. She had only wanted the best for her and their people, but it still stung when she had found the perfect daughter in Octavia. Sometimes she wished her mother would save some of her pride for her daughter by birth.

She exhaled slowly, and was suddenly aware of another presence in the room. She opened her eyes and though her face remained passive, she was bemused.

Marcus Kane was sitting in the pew closest to her, head hung in prayer.

She shifted her weight, and Marcus looked up at her.

"Gaia. How are you?" His eyes were heavy with grief, and a deep ache seemed to fill the room at his words.

"Kane. I'm well. What troubles you?" Gaia knew something was wrong. Abby had been spending more time than usual in the clinic as people settled into the cramped confines of the bunker, and while she had seemed a bit on edge to Gaia, there hadn't seemed to be any trouble between the couple.

An edge of panic crept up, spurred by the recent tensions. _Had something else happened?_

Marcus rubbed his neck as a sad smile formed on his lips. "My mother died a year ago today…" He nearly choked on his second sentence, "She was also a woman of faith."

Gaia's expression softened at his words, and she gracefully rose to her feet and moved to sit next to him on the pew.

"Those we have lost are never truly gone from us, Kane." She spoke softly and took his hand in hers. Grief was something she had become all too familiar with as a flamekeeper.

"The universe has bigger plans than we can fathom, and those we lose help shape our journeys going forward. Your mother knew this, and her teachings helped you become the man you are today. She would be proud of the leader you have become to your people."

Kane smiled at her words, but it was through a haze of tears. Gaia had wisdom well beyond her years. It never failed to surprise him how much she reminded him of Indra in some ways. Though in this moment, her words felt more reminiscent of his own mother.

"Thank you, Gaia." He paused, realizing how much she had seen in her life, realizing how little opportunity the children he knew had gotten to be children.

He would check up on her, he decided to himself. She deserved at least that much.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N** Hey all! Thank you so much for your wonderful reviews! This is my first fanfiction, so it has been so encouraging! I will try to post every Wednesday and Sunday, but we'll see what happens with this semester, it might turn into just Sundays. Though I don't want the focus of this fic to be shipping, I think the relationships (of all forms) are a critical part of everyone's character development, so expect that to develop over time!

 **Earth: Day 59**

 _Murphy must have gone through hell here._

Clarke tried to continuously remind herself that the lighthouse bunker was safe, that it meant survival, but for all her rationalization, it still felt eerie and profoundly lonely. Some parts of its luxurious intent remained, but while there was food and water, there was also an endless, mind-numbing amount of time.

She had tried reading some of the books for something to do, but her mind kept wandering. The sheer weight of her isolation was daunting, and her resounding guilt kept gnawing away at her-she always tried to make the best decision for her people, but it all felt so futile now.

The hallucinations that had plagued her when she was on the knife's edge of death returned in her nightmares, and sleeping got harder. She woke screaming most nights, with the sound of her voice echoing back against the walls. It wasn't that she hadn't felt this surge of emotions before- it was all too familiar- but in the few months before _praimfaya,_ there was always something and someone else to focus on, to pour her energy into to keep her grief and guilt at bay. She had been making impossible decisions continuously, but making those decisions had helped keep her mind busy and kept her from dwelling on the past.

She fought to keep herself from spiraling, tried to remember what a joy it was to have survived, to live. But as she lay in bed each night, each death haunted her.

Wells' death. Finn's death. Lexa's death. Bellamy's death. Everyone she had ever loved died either directly by her hand, or by consequence of her actions. Wells came to Earth to protect her, she had killed Finn to spare him torture for a crime he committed in order to find her, Lexa had died by a bullet meant for her, and Bellamy had died because she couldn't get the signal out in time.

 _Did I love them? Did I love them enough?_

She felt the heaviness of their loss every waking moment.

With a sigh, she marked another can off her ration list, and tried to sleep.

 **The Go-Sci Ring: Day 59**

Murphy had to be honest: Monty's moonshine was pretty much the best thing that had happened to them in the last few months.

 _Well, except for not dying in Apocalypse: Part II_ , he thought with a grin.

He leaned against the doorframe and took another swig of the algae moonshine. The slightly fishy taste was notably absent in the alcohol, and it instead tasted fresh and almost salty (though he knew Monty had removed as much salt as possible), and reminded him of the sea surrounding the island. The drink settled in the pit of his stomach with a warm flush, and he tilted his head to watch Emori.

She had worn her hair loose, and it flowed behind her because she was _dancing_ with Harper.

John fought back a laugh. Emori didn't dance, and she never worn her hair loose.

He'd seen it that way exactly once, just after she'd washed it. But now, with her cheeks flushed, eyes bright, and flowing hair, she didn't even seem to pay attention to anything else besides Harper and the God-awful music Monty had decided to play over his homemade speakers.

 _I hope we have more nights like this._

He loved every piece and part of her; her quick wit, steely resolve, ruthless loyalty, and every single hard edge. But beneath it all was someone wanting to deserve love.

Emori and Harper had taken to one another well enough, especially after they tried sparring one another a few weeks ago. Harper had gotten in a good kick and left a nasty bruise on Emori's hip. Emori refused to let her look at it, but Harper had pressed and pestered for days -she didn't have anything else to do- and eventually resulted in the two of them getting along fairly well once Harper half-drug Emori into the MedBay.

From then on, Emori brought scavenged material Raven had discarded to Monty and Harper's room so Harper could look through it. Though Harper had mothered over the bruise, she knew full well that Emori hadn't needed the attention. Nonetheless, she still admired her survivalist tendencies, and in her heart, thought Emori's strength was something they all needed to survive.

But tonight, as the two women skipped and twirled around the living area, they all felt a little lighter. Bellamy sat at the dining room table with Monty and Raven, and John saw him laugh. A pink tinge was creeping up beneath his freckles, and it was obvious he had probably overdone it already, but to see him _laugh_ was so unexpected, John almost laughed himself.

 _Well what d'ya know? Blake still remembers how to laugh. Good._ John nodded to himself. _This might be good for him._

No trace of resentment remained in John's mind for Bellamy. Whatever their past differences, Bellamy Blake had saved them all, and sacrificed more than John could imagine giving. He knew what Clarke had meant to him. If he ever lost Emori… A shiver ran through him, and he tried to shake it off.

The intensity of his feelings suddenly swelled, and spurred on by the alcohol in his veins, he darted out to their improvised dance floor to take Emori in his arms.

He pulled her to him, reaching up to where her tattoo curved around her cheek, and kissed her hard, in front of everyone. He didn't care.

The others whooped and hollered at him, but he ignored everyone and everything else. He wanted her and he needed her and here she was. The one person who thought him a hero when even he saw himself as the bad guy. She was more than anyone ever gave her credit for, but he sure wanted to try.

Emori leaned into the kiss and laughed against his lips, sending another tingle through him. He broke the kiss and leaned back to twirl her out and back so he could catch her against his body. Her body was warm and supple, and she smelled like alcohol, and something that reminded him of the forest. He wasn't sure how she managed to smell like the Earth even after two months, but he was drunk and she was beautiful, and that was all that mattered.

After a few more kisses that became increasingly desperate, and increasingly provocative shouts from the group, John took her hand and tugged toward the door. That was all the encouragement Emori needed, and they began walking toward their home, flames stroking the pits of their stomachs as Emori pushed him against the hallway wall and kissed his neck up to his ears.

By the time the pair made it to their bed, they had partially stripped out of their clothes, and their breathing came in gasps.

Emori couldn't remember if she had ever felt so wanted and needed and _loved._ She had spent her whole life searching, for scrap, for tech, for shelter, for a quick meal, for an easy target. She hadn't even been searching for him when he fell to Earth, and here she was, kissing him in space. She melted against John and felt the warmth of his skin pressing against her.

 _Oh. This feels like home._

 **The Bunker: Day 59**

The fight lasted 4 minutes and 37 seconds, because that was the time it took Octavia to reach the scene after she heard someone screaming. Racing toward the sound, she had seen a group of five _Trikru_ and _Azgeda_ warriors, each with knives drawn and each bloodied.

A sharp sting of fear had coursed through her when she heard Niylah desperately trying to diffuse the situation.

"Stop! There is no fighting here! This is the children's wing! Stop it, please!"

A hulking mountain of a man squared off against a well-built, but significantly smaller _Azgeda_ man. They both had children in the bunker, and were consequentially living in the children's wing. The _Azgeda_ man, however, had lost his wife to _Trikru_ soldiers some years ago, and had seen a resemblance to the man who killed her in this _Trikru_ man.

Whether it was truly the same man his wife had faced in battle ceased to matter in the heat of an argument about a work detail, and when the _Azgeda_ man began slinging insults, the _Trikru_ man drew a knife. Three other men, one _Trikru,_ two _Azgeda,_ had come to aid their respective clan-member.

Before anyone even realized the severity of the situation, both men had drawn weapons and the _Trikru_ man had slashed out and drew blood across the _Azgeda_ warrior's shoulder.

A flurry of movement continued as the _Azgeda_ man retaliated, and suddenly they were locked in combat, kicking and punching one another, and stabbing wildly.

This was not a warrior's fight, it was weeks of tension boiling over into raw emotion.

Octavia came sprinting down the halls, her swords drawn, and seeing the two men brawling in the middle of the children's wing, she felt her senses sharper, her vision tunnel, and she assessed each man's movements as she bounded gracefully into the fight, and sliced the _Azgeda_ warrior's throat and plunged her sword through the enormous _Trikru_ man. The acts were fluid, and the men hadn't even had a moment to react- it was swift, calculated, and unforgiving.

She stopped short just before she struck a death blow to a third man, but lashed out to catch the calves of the two _Trikru_ warriors who were fleeing.

As soon as it was over, the flooding fire that had consumed her ebbed, and she stood there blinking, bloody sword in hand, over the dead bodies of two men. The wounded men had crawled toward the wall, fear and something that almost appeared to be awe in their eyes.

As Octavia's senses flooded back, a wail broke out, and the sound of sobbing children echoed throughout the room, but everything else was eerily silent as Octavia stood with her chest heaving in a growing pool of blood.

Kane rubbed his temples and Octavia fought down the urge to curse everyone in the room.

 _I should have just let the guard handle it…_ She thought, irritated with herself for acting so rashly, but not quite regretting her actions. Now, it seemed her lapse in judgement would cause the Council to lose a great deal of face. _That_ she regretted.

Though she was permitted to administer justice as the Commander, the Council had been pushing for more united decisions, which gave the clans a sense of unity, and this incident was, at the very least, bad press. At worst, it might cause even more unrest.

To Octavia, it felt like a failure for her attempts to codify peace into their lives in the bunker.

 _It's who you are; you're a killer, Octavia,_ a dark voice whispered in her mind.

She tried to push the thought down, but secretly, she wondered if it was right. Maybe she wouldn't be able to bring her people peace, maybe she was only skilled as a warrior.

Suddenly, the Council turned to the issue of the families. Inadvertently, Octavia had made another Orphan of the _Azgeda_ child. A bitter taste rose in her throat.

 _Children don't deserve to suffer for their parents' mistakes,_ she thought to herself, _I of all people should know that._

She hoped the _Azgeda_ delegate would see to the child's well-being.

"He now has to be cared for. I understand the Commander's swift justice, even if I think the Council or the Guard should have handled the situation," the _Azgeda_ delegate nodded in the Commander's direction. "But it remains that the child now has no one else in this world. Amends need to be made for him." His voice persistent and compelling.

Indra still didn't trust him, and neither did Octavia, but his words spurred on a thought in her mind.

"I'll take him." She spoke suddenly, and Akro, the _Azgeda_ delegate froze mid-sentence. Unused to losing his composure, he blinked and gaped at the Commander.

"My Heda, I don't understand…" He managed, his cool arrogance lost for a moment, and Octavia tried not to enjoy it too much.

"I'll take him," she repeated flatly. "I will care for him since he has no other family, and if he is worthy, I will train him as my second."

She knew the child from visiting Niylah. His name was Nyc and he was unusually bright and attentive for an eleven-year-old. Though he had only his father, he was a free spirit and often roamed with the other children rather than staying by his father's bunk. In truth, he often sported bruises that Octavia doubted just came from rough play, and while she regretted his father's death, she didn't think Nyc would hate her for it. The _Trikru_ child and widow might, but Octavia could live with their hatred; it was caused by grief, and there's would be more justified than most that hated her.

The matter was settled, but the Council remained uneasy. But for a few delegates, the issue had been exactly what they had been waiting for, and that night, behind closed doors, words of dissent and rebellion were whispered openly, with more conviction than ever.


	9. Chapter 9

**Earth: Day 65**

 _Today was a good day._

There weren't many days lately that she could say the same for, so it felt like a victory.

Nothing particularly extraordinary had occurred, but nonetheless, it had felt good.

She had started to draw again.

The first few doodles were unintentional- she had been trying to read (an old sci-fi novel about an astronaut stranded in space), and she had still had her pen in hand from her daily rationing checklist.

She had made tallies in the margins of the novel, thinking not only of the protagonist, but also of herself.

 _Sets of five. Fifty, fifty-five, sixty. Sixty-one, sixty-two._

She made a mark for every day she had been awake and alone on Earth. _Two-months. It's been two months._ She let out a nervous laugh into the silence of the lighthouse, it didn't seem possible that it had already been that long. Even when she had left Arkadia after Mount Weather, she had never been truly alone for this long. The only time she had been this alone was her year in solitary, and even then, there had been the occasional guard.

As she thought to herself, she had started to sketch the shadowy wasteland of what was once the island forest along the bottom margin of the page. The pen bled a little in some places, but the overall effect was chillingly realistic.

Clarke thumbed back through the parts she had already read, and continued to draw, but this time, she began to draw her nightmares, sometimes incorporating the words and letters into the shape of the sketch.

Her dreams sprang up from the page and darted back to hide between the words of the story, and her visions of death and love swirled together to create an anthology of emotion.

It was well-past midnight when she finally capped the pen (it was running out of ink, anyway), and laid the book down with its pages open to dry.

The outpouring of emotion had felt so cathartic, she knew she would continue tomorrow. She had a plan- she would read every book in this bunker, and once she finished each one, she would draw on every page, maybe illustrating the book, maybe illustrating her own life.

If the food ran out in a few months and there was nothing left to sustain her out there, she wanted some memory, some indication that she was here, that her friends had been here.

Clarke laid on her side beneath the white sheet and curled into herself. She was still lonely, the world was still dead and desolate, and she was still subsisting in a bunker than would only last her a few more months, but it was a good day.

She closed her eyes, and sleep came easy.

 **The Go-Sci Ring: Day 65**

Raven was standing at her desk at the (former) Earth Monitoring Station, staring at a jumble of parts in front of her when Monty walked into the room.

"Hey Raven." He dipped his head in a greeting, and she paused to turn toward the door.

"Good, did you bring him?" She asked, a forced nonchalance in her tone.

Monty didn't reply, but the door slid open again, and John Murphy walked into the room.

"Why am I here, again?" John asked dryly. It wasn't a real question; he knew why. He was just nervous. And though he would never admit it, a bit uncomfortable. He was never much good with mechanics or engineering, never much good at anything really. He didn't want the pressure to act as Monty's stand-in.

Raven rolled her eyes, and a pang of regret flashed across Monty's face.

"You're here, Murphy, because we saved your sorry ass by bringing you to space on _my_ rocket ship." Raven retorted just as dryly. "And because now, we need an extra set of hands so I can finally get this goddamn comms system online." An edge of anger crept into her voice, _this would be much easier if they had been Murphy's hands instead of Monty's._

She regretted the thought as quickly as it came. _It's not Murphy's fault that Monty's hands got damaged,_ she reminded herself, _and it's not Monty's fault, either._ She tried to even the tone of her voice.

"I'll be doing most of the work, there are just some things I'm going to need your help with. If we do this right, we'll be able to talk to the bunker."

 _Why we'd want to do that is beyond me,_ John thought to himself bitterly, but if he was honest with himself, he knew he didn't want to spend six years without anyone else to break up the monotony of the Ring.

Seeing the hurt on Monty's face, however, was the real reason he knew he had to help. It was killing Monty to feel useless, and John knew how much that feeling sucked.

Raven walked him through some beginner tasks to get Murphy familiar with the concept of the radios she wanted to make. Essentially, she wanted to work through four tasks- personal radios, an intercom system, a direct radio to Earth that would let them contact the bunker for a few hours every day, and launching several satellites that would hopefully give them an open communication line 24/7.

Monty still had enough dexterity that he could perform most tasks, but Raven wanted Murphy to learn as much as they could teach. With only seven of them up here, redundancy was vital. Was she being paranoid? Probably. Did they have anything else to do, anyway? Nope.

So, redundancy it was.

After a few hours, however, John was getting progressively frustrated. Raven was not the most patient of teachers, and while he often did well when Monty or Raven walked him through an exercise, the minute he had to assemble parts together on his own, he felt lost.

All three of them took a short break for lunch, and as they ate their algae (pureed into a pudding-like consistency with a sweetened topping that John was particularly proud of), Monty recounted the first time he sat in on an engineering class after he was recruited from Farm Station.

"I didn't have a clue what I was doing. See, I was so used to just having a "feel" for what was right with plants, and I hadn't developed that sense with technology yet. I was a half-way decent hacker, though, so that helped." A roguish smile lit up his eyes as he recalled the skills necessary to hide their elicit Grow Room from prying eyes aboard the Ark.

"The thing is, it just takes time to get a feel for it. It took time for you to become a good cook, right?"

Murphy stared down at his pudding. Monty's praise left a lingering feeling of warmth at the base of his throat, and he nodded.

"My father always used to cook, my mother would help, sometimes. He said it was about making something that was more than it appeared. He liked to surprise people."

The revelation was more than Monty expected. Murphy wasn't the sharing type, especially about his family.

He cleared his throat, hiding his surprise. "Exactly. That's what we're trying to do here with this comms system. An elegant function in a simple format. It doesn't look like much from the outside, but the inside is much more complicated."

Monty took over from Raven and continued the lessons for the rest of the day, and John felt strange. He wasn't sure what to think about this new arrangement; even before he had been locked up, he didn't have many friends. Up until now, he'd really only ever had Emori on his side. But by the end of the day, Murphy thought to himself that he might like the idea of having Monty Green as a friend.

 **The Bunker: Day 65**

Nathan Miller poked his head into the Commander's office and gave a low whistle.

Octavia looked up sharply, recognizing Miller's pitch, and waited for him to enter the room.

Miller still held himself with an easy confidence, and like Bellamy and Clarke before her, she trusted his judgement. She had assigned him to her personal guard since the first week in the bunker, and while the loss of his father had hit him hard, he was beginning to smile again.

It made Octavia glad to see him- there weren't many people on her side these days.

His weapon was holstered, his hands were empty, and he was alone, but something about his demeanor still set Octavia on edge- something was wrong.

"Nate, what's wrong?" She inquired, returning to an informality they had adopted with one another in the bunker. In Bellamy's absence, Miller was one of the few young people that still felt comfortable calling her "Octavia" instead of "Commander."

Miller fidgeted with his hands for a moment before answering, "There are some whispers going around, Octavia. Some of the other clans didn't like the way you handled the fight. Kane's been talking to Gaia about it, and they both want an audience."

 _Gaia?_ Octavia thought. What has Kane been doing talking to Indra's daughter? There was a beat before Octavia nodded her head.

"Alright, go get them. Funny of Kane to be formal all of a sudden. Normally he'd just barge in here and continue his five-day lecture." Octavia didn't try to keep the disdain from her voice. Even though she respected Kane, his guidance sometimes felt oppressive, especially since the fight. All he had time for anymore was to berate her for her foolishness before he returned to the Medical Clinic.

 _Miller has been spending a good bit of time there, too_ , Octavia thought to herself. _I'm willing to bet that's where Kane found him and asked for an audience._ She smiled slightly as Miller left to find Kane and Gaia. _Maybe I should switch some of Nate's schedule over to Medical, I don't think Jackson would complain any._

Though she knew the two were trying to be discreet, she had noticed their mutual interest, and she made sure to keep note of where her guards spent their time off-duty. She was sorry things hadn't worked out for Nate and Bryan, but Nate seemed happier now, and she was glad, sometimes things just weren't meant to be.

A sharp ache broke open in her chest at the thought. _Lincoln._

She drew a quick breath and mentally slammed the thought down. _This war isn't done. My fight isn't over. I can't mourn now, I don't have time for grief._ In her mind, she had reframed their survival in the bunker as a continuation of their war for life and freedom, and while she admitted to herself that it was probably unhealthy, she tried not to let herself think about him.

It just hurt too much, still. He had been part of her. And now he was gone.

Composing herself, she set her jaw in time for Kane and Gaia to walk into the room.

Gaia was obviously uneasy. _So this was Kane's idea,_ Octavia noted, though Kane seemed slightly on edge as well.

"There are clans who want what you have, _Heda._ " Gaia began, wasting no time in pleasantries. Her own mixed emotions about the Commander made this meeting all the more unsettling for her. "They want your title, your rank, and your respect. They think you've weakened the Council by killing the men yourself."

Octavia raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to get to the point. She knew all of this already. **Everyone** had already told her as much.

"Nonetheless, I think the fear you've inspired can work in your favor." Gaia paused, unsure how to continue. "Is it true you care for Nyc now?"

Nodding, Octavia replied, "I promised Akro I would make him my second if he is worthy, and I believe that he will be. He is strong, intelligence, and loyal." Octavia smiled, "He has more heart than most."

Gaia analyzed Octavia's reaction- though it would seem logical that the boy would hate Octavia for making him an orphan, Octavia didn't seem to consider this a major concern. If Nyc really did train as Octavia's second, it could be the solution they needed to repair relations within the clans.

Gaia told Octavia as much, and when she was finished, she spoke again:

"I know I'm not a warrior or a leader like you, Octavia, and now, I'm not even a flame-keeper. But I know the politics of my people. The other clans will always vie to put their people first, but if you ever need advice, I'm here for you."

Octavia was touched, but she didn't know what to say. To her, Gaia was a sister, both in _kru_ and because she considered herself kin to Indra, making Gaia an extension of that family. But Gaia had always seemed aloof, and disinterested in the messy intricacies of leadership and war. Her offer to help was exactly what Octavia needed to keep her people and the Council afloat, and she felt such an intense surge of gratitude, she wasn't sure what to do.

So, Octavia stood and strode around the table to wrap her arms around Gaia's slender frame.

"Thank you, my sister," Octavia whispered, emotion thick in her voice. The Council would survive if she had help.

Kane sat at the table, stunned and more than a little proud.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N:** As I'm sure you all realize, today is not Wednesday… So, Sunday updates it is! It was a bit of a chaotic week, but I'm going to try to do better! And in my defense, this just felt like it needed to be a longer chapter.

 **Earth: Day 77**

A sob echoed in the empty bunker, but it was a dry wheeze that reverberated back against the concrete walls of a homemade bunker.

Madi had to leave. Today.

She ran out of water two days ago.

 _Mu-ma wouldn't have drunk it all so fast, she would have waited._ Madi berated herself silently, angry for her mistake, wishing she had done a better job. So her parents would have been proud.

Her head was pounding dully, and the sound of her heartbeat thudded softly at the nape of her neck like a small bird trapped in the attic and desperate to escape.

She had buried her grandfather. She had buried her mother's sister. She had buried her father. And she had buried her mother, unborn child still in her womb. She couldn't sink their bones in the lake the way _Ouskejon_ warriors were buried, or even cover them in earth like most people, which made her heart ache.

Instead, she had laid them all side by side in the back room of the bunker, a task that had taken her an entire day, and covered each of them with a blanket. Not knowing what else to do, she had cried and closed off the room as best she could with the same goo her father had used to seal the main door. It wasn't a proper burial, but it was all she could do with as sick as she had still been.

She had buried them all so long ago, it seemed.

She paused a moment, thinking through her aching head and blurring vision.

Madi felt like she had been here forever, like she had been alone forever.

And now, the water was gone and she had to leave.

Now, she had to heed her mother's last words and go East, to Polis.

 _East to Polis._

Polis, where the Commander's Spirit would protect her. Where there would be people.

 _Where there will be water, hopefully_.

There was still food here, dried fish and meat and berries meant to feed her entire family for months, but there was no more water.

If her papa was still alive, he would have known how to make water, but Madi didn't know how. She only knew that she had to leave and go east, toward the rising sun.

 _I wonder if I'll get sick again when I leave, my skin doesn't seem so bad now, there are only a few places that still hurt._

The radiation had been deterred by the bunker somewhat, but it had still leached in at lethal doses for the first two months, and Madi had grown accustomed to the ever-present burns, sores, swelling, and pain. She had never been directly exposed, so her symptoms were often mild, but in the beginning, the radiation had forced her into blackouts and seizures alongside her family. But she had recovered, her family hadn't.

Her left shoulder had blistered and burned so badly in the first two weeks that she would be left with a sickle-shaped scar that would follow her into adulthood. Much of her hair had fallen out, but downy, blonde tendrils had begun to replace it. She didn't mind, she always thought the warrior women looked better with short hair anyway.

And that's what she was- a warrior girl.

Madi climbed the ladder to the opening of the bunker- reach, pull, step. Repeat.

She had her mother's jacket on, the one that she'd brought to the bunker even though she couldn't wear it anymore with her rounded belly, and its pockets were stuffed with her father and grandfather's dried jerky.

When she reached the top rung of the ladder, she lifted a knife, and wobbling, picked away at the grey goop that had "sealed" the bunker.

As the last piece fell away, she shoved against the ceiling and broke out onto the Earth above.

It was night.

The moon was nearly full, and it was easy to see her surroundings since all the trees stood naked in the ground.

She hadn't really thought much about time while she had been in the bunker, but it still surprised her to see the world so dark after not seeing it for so long.

For a moment, she wondered if _praimfaya_ had stolen away the sun, but she figured she was being silly- after all, people had survived _praimfaya_ before.

She struggled to get her bearings and realized she didn't recognize anything.

 _Where is the tree papa used to hunt from when he was a boy?_

 _Where is the bush mu-ma and I pick berries from in spring?_

 _Where is the trail that leads home?_

She fought to remain calm, just like papa always told her. She was special. She had to learn not to be angry and to think clearly, because that's what _nightblidas_ do. Because people counted on her.

So she thought, and she remembered that when they had all come to the bunker together, mu-ma had stumbled a little because her belly was getting so big.

Madi looked around, but the branch her mother had tripped over was gone. Several trees had been felled by the winds of _praimfaya,_ and so much of the landscape was indistinguishable, especially without its foliage.

Mentally exhausted, Madi sat down on one of those trees to wait for daybreak. However, when she sat down and calmed her breathing, the world was so quiet that she began to listen even harder to the silence around her.

The more she listened, the more she realized it wasn't perfectly silent.

Somewhere far off to her right was the dribbling whisper of a stream.

Suddenly, she felt awake- buzzing with energy.

 _Water_.

Her body was aching for the stuff, and she knew it. A shiver ran through her, and she stood to stagger toward the sound.

The spring wasn't too far away, but by the time she saw the reflection of moonlight in the water, she thought she would collapse.

Dropping to the ground, Madi sat with her knees in the mud and cupped the water to her mouth with shaking hands. It was clear and cold and spring-fed. She would never know how lucky she was to have found it, and if she did, she would simply assume the Commander's Spirit had led her there.

All that mattered was that she had water. The red burns reforming across the bridge of her nose, the blisters on her feet from shoes that were now too small, and the chill of the night air meant nothing to her.

She had water. It was enough.

 **The Go-Sci Ring: Day 77**

There are a lot of things Monty Green is good at: hacking, keeping secrets, growing drugs, self-sacrificing, keeping faith, and undying loyalty.

There are a few things Monty has never been good at: accepting failure, playing backgammon, and moving on.

They'd been in space for 11 weeks today. He wasn't sure why this week hurt so much more than all the others. Maybe it was because the reality of five years in space was starting to set in. Maybe it was because his body had finally adjusted to life back aboard the Ring and things finally felt permanent. Maybe it was because 11 was Jasper's favorite number.

He knew it hadn't really been his favorite- that he'd always just said it was his favorite because it was the number of times they had held moonshine parties before he forgot to seal off the lights to the grow room. And then because 11 had been Monty's cell number when they both got locked up because of it.

Maybe it was the 7s that were bothering him.

Jasper had been born seven days after him. There had been seven people at the party the night they'd gotten arrested -the most ever- and when they had gone to Earth together, they had spent seven months on the surface together.

 _Maybe it's just because he's dead. He's dead because he killed himself. Because living hadn't been enough. Because he hadn't been enough. Because-_

He shook himself and tried to breathe the way Harper had showed him- in slowly _one, two, three, four._ He tried to hold his breath to make the count. _Out- six, seven, eight._

Like Bellamy, he hadn't slept well the first few weeks on the Ring, but unlike Bellamy, Harper had been lying beside him each night to coax him back from the edge of a panic attack. Jasper's death cut him to the quick, and the wound was covered, but still raw.

He just hurt, and felt empty. And missed Jasper. Every damn day.

Every hall, every turn, every room reminded him of the days he'd spent roaming the Ark before they'd been arrested.

Maybe if he hadn't forgotten to replace the seed starters, maybe if Suzanne hadn't been on duty that night to see the lights on in the grow room, maybe if they hadn't pushed their luck by inviting so many people, maybe Jasper wouldn't have been arrested. Maybe he would have come down with the others and never would have been captured by Mount Weather and never would have had his heart broken when Monty had to kill the girl he loved. Maybe then their friendship would have still been enough to make him want to live.

But maybe he would have died anyway. In the culling, in the landing, at the hands of the Grounders, by virtue of a lost seat in the bunker at Polis.

 _By why did John Murphy get to live?_

The thought was bitter and held more anger than Monty realized he had inside him.

He wasn't angry with John, not really. He opens the door to the Earth Monitoring Station lab and walks inside. It's time to start another day slogging through the intercom system and a potential radio to listen to Earth.

John was already there, sitting at the desk, fiddling with an antenna wire and several homemade batteries, a grimace on his face from the intensity of his concentration. The look brought back some bad memories.

 _Even though he did try to kill Jasper when he was injured. And again, when he saw Murphy kill Myles._

Monty tried to focus, tried to remember that John had changed, that he wasn't the same person he was when he made those decisions. That John had grown up. That they all had.

Murphy made a joke and chuckled to himself, but Monty barely heard it. It just felt so wrong that Murphy had made every wrong decision and still got to live, when Jasper had always been along for the ride and always tried to do the right thing, but he was dead.

In a strange sense that he _knew_ was wrong, he felt like he was betraying Jasper's memory. He swallowed hard.

Raven didn't notice Monty's subdued nature this morning, but John did. Something was off- he could feel it. He takes a deep breath. Maybe Monty needed a friend right now.

Hell if he knew how to be that, but he could give it a shot. Monty had helped him through so much of this engineering crap this week, dealing with his questions and the longer amount of time it took him to process the steps. He could at least ask what was bothering him.

"Hey, you good this morning?" John paused. Okay. Easy. "I know I'm dumb, but you seem a little out of sorts." _Okay, self-deprecating humor is always good_ , he thought to himself. It was still his shield, but he was trying.

Monty's mouth opened, then shut again, but when he looked up to face Murphy, there was a deep, rolling anger burning in his eyes.

John physically recoiled- stepping backward- at the sight. "Monty?" There was a touch of genuine concern in his voice, but also a bit of fear. John cursed himself because he recognized it as soon as he heard it in his voice. _Weakness._

"Am I good? Good? We've been in space for 11 weeks. And we'll be stuck here for-" Monty sputtered, then paused to finish the math- "249 more weeks. That's a lot of weeks with you pretending to be my new best friend while my real best friend is dead."

He regretted the words as soon as they were out. He was supposed to be the optimist, the peacemaker, the one who kept the faith and kept them fed. He deflated visibly as he realized exactly what he had said, but the damage was done. He didn't know what else to say. The words still felt true, but he knew he shouldn't have said it.

At last, he murmured, "Let's just build this goddamn radio."

John looked like he'd been slapped in the face.

Even Raven had stopped working from her main desk at the sound of Monty's outburst. A trace of sympathy was in her eyes, but John mistook it for pity. Suddenly the room felt too small and Monty felt too close and he felt too trapped. His breathing came in bursts, and he stopped struggling to control it.

"Like I'd want to be friends with you. You suck at making people want to keep living. How's that optimist gig working for you?"

A crack in his voice usurped the forced snarkiness in his tone, but the damage was done. Monty sucked in a breath and a shade of plum crept up his cheeks.

In a whirl, Murphy fled the room, stalking down the corridor toward the room he shared with Emori.

 _Fine._ He didn't need friends. He needed to survive.

And right now, as he tried to ignore the prickling sensation in his chest that told him he was lying, he needed Emori.

Monty was still crumpled on the desk when Harper entered the room.

As soon as Murphy had left ( _stormed out is more like it)_ , she had gone to get Harper. She knew whatever this was, she was 100% not qualified to deal with it. This wasn't the first time Monty had broken down about Jasper, but it was the first time in a long time that he had seemed _angry_. _So angry._

Anger was so uncharacteristic for him, Raven didn't know what to make of it, but she realized that maybe she should have mediated the lessons between John and Monty a little more, but having them work together had given her some time to work on the satellites, and it had seemed like the best use of their time.

 _Maybe it's not worth the time I'll save_ , she thought. _If they end up hating each other, the few extra days is useless anyways._

 _It'll just be a little slower. That is, if it wasn't already too late to get them to work together again._

She wished Bellamy were here. He knew how to deal with Monty and John. He'd know what to say.

She needed to track him down. She rarely saw him anymore, even for meals. She mentally put it on her list of things to do, and when Harper rushed to Monty's side to embrace him, she left the lab.

She hadn't finished anything today, but one more day wouldn't hurt, after all, they still had 1,743 to go.

 _But who's counting?_

 **The Bunker: Day 77**

Eric Jackson was kneeling next to a cot, examining a badly sprained ankle on a _Sankru_ man. The man had entered the clinic cursing, claiming he had tripped down a flight of steps coming home from the night detail at the oxygenator, but Jackson wasn't sure he believed him. The man was young, though hints of grey were already beginning to wind their way through his dark hair. But it wasn't his youth that made Jackson doubt his story, or even the dappling of bruises that were beginning to purple his legs and arms and the stiffness in his walk when he entered the clinic.

The other injuries might have aroused some doubt, but Jackson's suspicion was rooted in the way the _Sankru_ man kept eying the door, in the way he visibly forced himself to control his breathing, and simply in the fact that he was _Sankru_.

As much as everyone hated to admit it, a caste system had followed them all into the bunker, but old rivalries and standings had been magnified as a result of the shared space. _Azgeda, Trikru,_ and _Skai kru_ all knocked elbows for the top slot in the bunker, while _Podakru_ trailed just behind. _Sankru_ and _Ingranroan_ were both squarely at the bottom of the hierarchy.

Jackson was fairly certain the _Sankru_ man had been attacked on his way home simply because he was _Sankru_ , but he didn't know how to prove it.

The man wouldn't admit to an altercation- the Council could find him guilty of provocation even if there had been none.

This man needed to be treated, and protected, but beyond that, Jackson was only certain of his ability to help with the former.

Just then, Emelie _kom Yujleda_ walked through the clinic door, and Jackson was afraid the _Sankru_ man would bolt. It wasn't that the slight woman was particularly intimidating, in fact, her long silver hair hung loosely around a face etched with smile lines, it was more that the young man seemed ready to run at the sound of his own heartbeat.

Much to Jackson's relief, the sight of the older woman seemed to put the _Sankru_ man at ease, and he settled back onto the cot, letting Jackson continue wrapping his foot.

She greeted the man, and the man touched the center of his forehead in an obvious sign of respect. Emelie smiled softly and returned the gesture. She stood quietly in the door as Jackson continued to splint the ankle. Jackson smiled to himself- Emelie had been coming around the clinic more lately; always quietly, and always at night when Abby was off duty, but she almost always came.

As soon as the ankle was set, the man scuttled away, glancing around distrustfully as he fled to the barracks.

Jackson put away the bandages and leaned back against the cupboard.

"So. Do you think he really fell?"

He tried to keep the doubt out of his voice, but he thought he knew what her answer would be.

"Maybe he did, but how he fell matters." Emelie's answer was cryptic, as usual.

Emelie was a healer by trade, and though Abby seemed to dislike her, Jackson had taken to her immediately, and trusted her insight. While Abby ran the Medical Clinic during the day, Jackson usually took the night shift, and Emelie routinely came to keep him company. He made her tea and she brought news from the clans, and taught him Grounder medicine.

Usually, she was fairly vague about who the Guard needed to watch, but tonight, there was a sense of urgency in her voice.

"We're going to have more trouble soon. The _Podakru_ delegate has political ambition… Jordyn wants power for her people when we return to the surface, but she might not be willing to wait that long. You might want to let the Guard know to watch the hydro plant the next few days."

A twinkle in Emelie's eyes teased over the word "Guard," and Jackson fought back a smile.

 _I've gotta let Nate know._

A warmth settled in his stomach as he set a pot to boil for tea.

Nate always came by on his breaks, which usually fell just before dawn, right before Jackson got off. When Jackson finally got off, they usually had an hour or two together before it Nate had to go back on shift. Though he knew Nate loved working Octavia's security detail, he knew it was exhausting for him. Six hours on, three hours off made for a shitty sleep schedule, even without spending half of that time with him. It was all Jackson could do to make sure that time was well spent.

Dawn would come soon, and Jackson couldn't wait for Nate to walk through the door and press himself against him. His heart jumped at the thought.

He would warn Nate, and then, after he went to report to Octavia, they could escape for a while- just sit behind the barracks and lean against one another. They would try to talk about their nights, the way they always did, but like always, they would just resign themselves to a few sleepy kisses before drifting off side by side.

Jackson was so caught up in his thoughts, he didn't notice Emelie slip out, a light smile on her face, but brow furrowed in worry.

Things were much worse than they seemed on the surface, and she feared they were soon about to get much worse.


	11. Chapter 11 (part 1 of 3)

**A/N** Hey guys, sorry this chapter is so late. I wish I had a better excuse, but I've just been swamped with work. Your patience will be rewarded eventually…  
I've been feeling guilty for not posting anything, so here's Clarke's chapter. The rest will *hopefully* come out tomorrow or Tuesday… Also, just a heads up- Clarke's kinda in a dark place for part of this chapter. The next part of this chapter will _finally_ check in on Bellamy, too. I haven't written from Bellamy's perspective in forever, so I hope you enjoy spending some time with him when I finally finish his chapter.

 **Earth: Day 89**

Fourteen novels were stacked on the left side of the bed. With little else to do and an all-consuming desire to do _something_ , Clarke had read and sketched on every single page. She only had four ink pens left, now, but there were still six pencils.

When she flipped through the pages of the first eight novels, all she saw was scenery growing through and winding its way out of the printed text.

Her memories from the ground were first: the dropship, the river, Finn's "Art Supply Store," Arkadia, the quarantine ward in Mount Weather, the harvest chamber, the dining hall, the abandoned zoo where she had been trapped with Lexa, Polis, the forest when it was still alive, the sea, the island, the trading post, the craggy horizon of _Azgeda_ sector, the hills and valleys of Earth as she had known it before _praimfaya_.

Those novels were the product of her first week of drawing. She had devoured each book and covered every page in a ravenous flurry. Some scenes were vague and only partially complete, others were drawn with excruciating detail, and some with just enough detail to indicate the place, but not who was in the scene.

Soon after, she had begun to sketch her memories of the Ark. She tried to remember everything- the cafeteria, the medical bay, the way the light used to fall through the portholes onto the metal floor, the view of Earth surrounded by a black sea of stars, the housing unit she had grown up in, the way her father used to hang his sweater across the sofa, the SkyBox, the seedling from Earth sitting amidst a semicircle of kindergarteners as they sang on Unity Day.

And on and on, she drew everything she could remember.

After those novels, she had drawn portraits. She drew Lexa. She drew Finn. She drew her mother and Kane (they were smiling together), she drew Indra, Niyko, Anya, and Niylah. She drew Dante and Cage, and Emerson and Dr. Tsing. She drew Monty and Jasper, Monty and Harper, Jasper and Maya, Raven, Wick, Sinclair, Jaha, and Wells. She drew Charlotte, she drew Murphy and Emori. She drew Roan and Echo. She drew Octavia. She drew Luna and Ontari and Aiden.

She hadn't drawn Bellamy once. It hurt to remember the details.

 _I wish I had told him._

But she hadn't known how to explain what he meant to her.

She'd tried twice to draw his portrait, but the first time, she'd pressed the point into the page for so long that it bled across an entire paragraph before she realized what she was doing. The second, she'd started the curve of his throat before she was thrust back into her nightmare where she saw him suffocate, air sucked from his lungs, over and over. Of every death she had to bear, his was the hardest to come to terms with. So, she didn't.

Every portrait she had finished smiled, frowned, and scowled back and her, and most days, they helped her feel less lonely. It broke her heart when she couldn't get a feature right, because she knew that person's face was fading from her memory.

She drew them all because she wanted to remember, because she had to remember them all.

There were some that had broken her up inside. Remembering the perfect curve of Lexa's shoulder, shading the hollow in her throat, or tracing her fingertips with a pencil all hurt like hell. She thought she was past the heart-wrenching grief. Now she just realized she had been so busy trying to prevent species extinction that she never truly processed Lexa's death.

She had already filled up half of the pages of a book with just her. She wished she could fit everything on the page. The rustle of her hair against the sheets, the firm and gentle caress of her fingertips, the way the muscles in her back rolled when she kissed them just the right way. But she couldn't. In that sense, the book was fitting- it **almost** __captured her, the way they had almost made it. They way Clarke had almost loved her in time.

Finn's portraits were easier, in a way, because the grief wasn't as raw, but they were also harder because Clarke's love and feelings of betrayal and loss and horror and disbelief still mixed together every time she tried to draw the laughter in his eyes or the way his hair fell across his cheeks.

Her heart was so tired.

But the drawing helped fill something in her soul, though she wasn't always sure she still had one _._

Today, she was starting a new novel, and this one was going to be special.

This time, she was going to draw every one of the 100. She had already drawn her friends, but she wanted to redraw them alongside all the others. They had all struggled to survive together, and it meant something. Even if nearly everyone was dead now, anyway.

She lifted her pen at the thought.

Nearly everyone…

Her heart sunk to the floor and she set down the pencil in her hand. She pushed a half-complete portrait of Fox from her lap and let out a long breath. She tried to move the thought from her mind, but it stuck.

She hated it when she did this. She couldn't control it, of course, but she still hated herself for the way she could just let the ache nest inside her and flood through her veins until she felt so overwhelmingly numb. She'd lost countless hours this way- just sitting on the edge of the bed, or inching down to the bathroom floor and aching. Sometimes, it wasn't so gentle and she sobbed until she was bent over, clutching her abdomen and dry-heaving.

She'd never broken apart like this. Even when she was alone, she had always needed to be strong.

In solitary, they would have floated her if she had appeared uncorrectable or unable to contribute should she be cleared. So, she held it in.

On the ground, she couldn't show too much weakness, or none of the 100 would have listened. So, she had tried to be tough.

In the Alliance, she knew weakness would get them all killed. So, she held herself together and stood confidently in front of their Grounder allies.

Now, she was more utterly alone than anyone had ever been, likely in all of history. She ached. She tried to stay strong, the way she always had. But she was so alone. This loneliness was so inexplicably different from anything she had ever experienced. It was completely isolation, and only her guilt and grief accompanied her. She was the only human alive on a scorched, burnt shell of a planet.

 _But 1200 below it._

 _1200 that will come out to see the sun again._

 _1200 that survived, that will rebuild humanity._

 _1200._

The thought felt distant and fragile, but she held it in her mind and it tethered her to reality like the gossamer strands in a spider's web.

 _They are below the ground. In a few months, I can go back to the mainland. I can go to Polis._

 _Maybe I can even try to figure out a radio to talk to the bunker._

The thoughts rushed through her mind, trying to soothe her panic. They weren't very successful, but nonetheless, they anchored her. She thought about her mother.

 _I have to make it 'til the bunker opens. Mom deserves that much. So does Octavia. I owe that much to Bellamy._

She thought about how proud he would be of Octavia, the new leader in the bunker. She felt her panic subside as a new set of ideas came to her.

She hadn't known Bellamy well when they were on the Ark- he was just old enough that she'd never really seen him in school, but she could imagine the way he had taken care of Octavia growing up. A smile came to her lips and she set aside the book with Fox's portrait for the moment and opened a new book.

It was an anthology of mythology. She'd been waiting to fill this one. Now she realized why.

She'd read some of these in school, the way all students on the Ark did, but many of the stories were new to her as she read. The names of the gods filled the silence of the bunker as she whispered them aloud: Dionysius, Ra, Hestia, Arawn, Isis, Oden, Vishnu, Demeter, Guanyin, Freyr.

Eventually, her heartrate slowed again as she read through the first myth, and at its conclusion, she flipped back to the first page and began to sketch the likeness of Bellamy and Octavia, sitting next to one another, up against a wall outside Arkadia.

She was frowning in concentration as she drew in Bellamy's freckles across the softened expression he reserved specifically for Octavia and, occasionally, for her.

Clarke tried to convey the siblings' exhaustion and love, and as she finished the last few strokes of shading, she flipped the page to start another portrait, this time in ink.

It was Bellamy as she last saw him before she left to run to the tower: eyes begging her to stay safe, lips parted slightly with words left unsaid, arms hanging by his sides after they broke their last hug. She saw his face so often in her dreams, nightmares, and hallucinations, she knew she couldn't forget it. But to see him staring back at her from the page caused her to gasp a soft sob.

She couldn't save him. She was the one who was supposed to die. Her friends were supposed to make it to the Ring. Her friends were supposed to live.

Bellamy was supposed to live.

He was the heart of it all. He was supposed to tell his own story, not her.

She knew dying wouldn't bring him back, but it didn't keep the thought from floating through her mind. She knew she bore the weight of her decisions so her people didn't have to, but lately, it felt like her freak survival, her nightblood, was a curse- a punishment for her sins. She knew no suffering would ever atone for the decisions she had made, and the thought scared her.

It was easier to bear the weight when he was alive.

Clarke dog-eared the corner of the page and reached for Fox's portrait. She still had a duty to her friends, and to her people. She would remember every one of them.

For the rest of the evening and well into the night, Clarke remembered, sketched, and cried over the 100 delinquents that had almost called the Earth their new home.


	12. Chapter 11 (part 2 of 3)

**A/N/:** Sorry, this is probably just how it's gonna be from now on. I'll just try to post as frequently as I can. Thanks for sticking with me!

 **The Go-Sci Ring: Day 89**

Some days on the Ring were easier than others.

Today was not one of his better days.

Bellamy had been trying to stay connected with the others, but usually, he just felt useless up here. There wasn't much that ever needed done besides routine maintenance and working on the comms system. Raven, John, and Monty did the comms and equipment maintenance, and Monty, Harper, and Echo harvested algae, Harper was spending her time in the Med Bay, and Echo and Emori scavenged materials from around the Ring.

No one needed a guard up here, or even a leader, really- there wasn't an enemy for him to plan against or anyone to really bring together, just an incredible amount of time to pass and a set of rather technical chores to keep them from dying. Bellamy usually just felt in the way.

So, he'd taken to trying to stay out of the way. He still made an effort to collect rations and eat his meals with the others, but he just felt at a loss to do anything else. He was no engineer or mechanic, and there always seemed to be too many hands in the Algae Farm to get things done efficiently.

He didn't know what to do with himself, so he did nothing.

A big part of it was knowing he had abandoned Clarke, had abandoned O., and the hollowness of their loss still gnawed at him. He didn't know how to fill it. With nothing else to do on the Ring, he didn't know how to ignore it, either. For the first few weeks, he'd tried to go to the gym throughout the day, just to push until his lungs ached and sweat beaded his brow and his legs cramped, to make his body _feel_ something. But even then, he couldn't sleep at night, and he still had so many empty hours that the days just blended together.

Bellamy ended up spending most of his days in the SkyBox, though he tried not to make his excursions obvious to the others. He usually split his time between Clarke's cell, which was so richly decorated with sketches and drawings that it was impossible to miss, and Octavia's. He had never been allowed to visit her in lockup, because Jaha had thought they needed to be separated, that the space would be good for him. Why Jaha had thought separating Octavia from the only person alive who cared about her wellbeing was a good idea had always mystified Bellamy, but no amount of begging, bribery, or sneaking around had been able to get him a visitor's pass. It had, however, gotten him a cell number. 87.

The number had made him queasy to think of her, sixteen years old, sitting in the cell of a girl who had been floated the month before on her 18th birthday. Her review hadn't gone well, but it left a new cell for Octavia, the girl whose only crime was being born. Sometimes he had hated his mother for breaking the law, for sentencing all of them to a life of secrecy, but the hate was only ever fleeting. Octavia was the most precious responsibility he could ever ask for. But for a year, that responsibility had been ripped away and thrown into cell 87.

He never really had a reason to be there except that it made him feel closer to her. Until Raven got the comms on, he could only imagine what she was going through below the ground. He knew she could be a great leader: she was brilliant, resilient, and tough as nails, but she could still be hot-headed and stubborn, and the Grounders wouldn't exactly be the easiest group to lead.

Lexa had been an intelligent and ruthless Commander, and even she could barely maintain the alliance when land and resources were plentiful. Now that they were underground and trapped together, he didn't want to think of the tensions that would boil to the surface. The challenges he and Clarke had faced on the surface would be almost easy in comparison to what she would likely face.

He worried about her every day, but he couldn't do anything.

So he sat on the edge of her cot, head bowed, and tried not to break down. _Useless. Why am I up here if I can't do anything?_

Every time he had to make a choice, he always hurt those he loved, and usually everyone else, too. With Octavia and that stupid dance. Octavia, his mother. All the delinquents he couldn't protect. Charlotte, whose death he still felt responsible for. Lovejoy's little boy. All those families in Mount Weather. The hundreds of _Trikru_ warriors he'd helped slaughter. Lincoln, whose blood was on his hands as much as it was Pike's. The kids he had protected for as long as he could, with all he had, and who had died anyway in the death-wave that ended the world a second time.

Bellamy tried to remember what Kane had said when they'd all come home from Mount Weather, that they all deserved a second chance to make things better, that he didn't have to let his past define him, or his future. That he _did good_.

He didn't feel _good_.

Now the war was over; who was he when he wasn't a soldier, wasn't a leader, wasn't a brother trying to protect the girl who had been his entire childhood, or the woman who'd fought by his side to protect their people?

He wasn't sure he knew.

Clarke had always told him he was all heart, but lately, he had to thumb his pulse just make sure he was still alive. That this wasn't all just a bad dream.

He kept waking up ready for war.

Everything he was always came back to Octavia. He was strong for her, their mother had made sure they were both strong, but Octavia was his responsibility. He went to Earth for her, and she was also the reason he came back to the Ring. She still needed him. They were all the other still had. When she hurt, he ached. But he always did what he could to protect her. The Ark wasn't always kind, and it wasn't always fair. Neither was the ground. When he thought she was dead, the pain had ripped through his soul. Just the memory of seeing her swords fall to the floor from Echo's hands made bile rise in his throat.

That was all the more he felt anymore- sick or numb.

The first few weeks, he'd felt a crushing weight in his chest, a constant reminder of losing Clarke, of his betrayal in leaving her. Leaving her to die when they'd survived everything else together.

 _Clarke._

Now, the ache wasn't entirely gone, but it had subsided into a numbness that was occasionally broken by days when he felt too sick to move. He couldn't believe she was gone. That he'd left her. Somewhere, a tiny piece of his soul wanted to believe that she'd survived, somehow, the way she always did, but the hope was eating him alive. It would almost be better if she were gone- then she wouldn't know that they'd left her to slowly starve on a dead planet.

His chest constricted as pain shot through his abdomen. He winced and clutched his side; he didn't want to bother Harper- it was probably just a virus, or his body adjusting back to life in space, but the rolling nausea and splitting headaches were starting to wear him down. He wished he had a patrol to do, a plan to make, hell, even a dirty hall to mop.

Well. Maybe not a dirty floor. His year as a janitor had been a constant reminder of his distance from Octavia. He didn't want to make that distance feel any sharper than it already did, he just wanted to distract himself from the fact that everyone he loved was gone.

But he didn't have anything to do aboard the Ring, really. Raven and Monty told them all how to keep the Ring from dying, and they did it. Without anything else to do, or anyone else to be, who was he up here?

Someone who missed his mother. Who wished he had ran to her side and clutched at her old ratty gray sweater like a child the morning she was floated, instead of standing by the airlock trying to act like the man he was struggling to become. Someone who missed his sister, someone who would give anything to wrap her in a hug and take the weight of the world off her shoulders. Someone who missed Clarke. Someone whose heart still skipped a beat when her name passed through his thoughts. Someone who missed Clarke and Kane and Gina and Jasper and Lincoln and Fox and Zoe and Atom and Connor and Bree and the list went on and on and on.

He'd never had many friends on the Ark- keeping Octavia safe had been too important. The 100 had been his first true friends. He'd grown to care about every one of them on the ground, especially the ones that had continued to fight with him- who survived with him.

But he remembered all the others. Every single one.

He should have been a better leader from the beginning, maybe more of them would have lived.

 _Just to die on the ground when we couldn't save them in the bunker._

A frustrated sigh escaped his throat. He was thinking in circles again.

Standing up, Bellamy walked to the entrance of the SkyBox, back toward the Earth Monitoring System. Maybe Raven would have something (anything) for him to do.

When Bellamy rapped his knuckles on the door, Raven tried not to look surprised.

 _Damn, he looks like hell._

He hadn't shaved since the second week aboard the Ring, and his hair fell into his eyes in lank tendrils. Raven wasn't sure he'd washed it, either. Though Bellamy was always in the cafeteria at the same time as everyone else, he'd developed a habit of slipping in and out of the room quietly, so while Raven had noticed he was a little disheveled, seeing him up close for a sustained period of time was a little unnerving.

Bellamy wasn't the type to let himself go.

But, as she inspected his face, she noticed that there was still a fire in his eyes that told her he hadn't, not quite yet.

A little sheepishly, Bellamy asked if there was anything Raven needed help with. She tried not to feel frustrated. _Too little, too late._ The tension between Monty and Murphy was still palpable to everyone else on board, and Murphy had retreated from the rest of them, avoiding spending time with anyone but Emori.

 _Then again,_ thought Raven, _if anyone can get through to Murphy, it's probably Bellamy_. Even though they'd had their differences on the ground, Murphy respected Bellamy, and Bellamy's approval was important to him. _Maybe Bellamy can help them sort this out._

Bellamy watched Raven's face as she contemplated his question. She still needed him for _something_ , right? A sense of panic started to set in as she stared back at him without a sound.

Finally, Raven nodded, and beckoned him back to her bench. Confused, Bellamy followed. _If she wants me to help with the tech, this isn't going to go well…_ But Raven began talking as she sorted through the materials on her desk. She always thought better when her hands were busy.

"Monty and Murphy got into a spat about a week ago. I had them working together so we could get the comms done sooner, because Monty doesn't have the range of motion he needs to assemble the system anymore." She paused. She knew Monty struggled with his damaged hands, but tried to brush off the full extent of it. "At least not quickly. Not yet. He'll relearn how to do things, but it's a process, and in the meantime, he just can't do everything. Not without getting frustrated." She looked up from the piping in her hands. "And losing Jasper was hard on him. He doesn't talk about it much anymore, but Jasper was his best friend. Losing someone like that…"

Raven trailed off, she knew all too well the gaping hole that sort of loss left. So did Bellamy. So she stood there, leaning against the desk, holding up a set of syringes still wrapped in plastic that had come from the medical storeroom. Quietly, she set them on the pile that would return to Harper.

"And I dunno, I guess Murphy said something and it set Monty off." _A feat in itself._

Bellamy raised his eyebrows, his thoughts obviously echoing hers. Monty was always calm, always collected, always optimistic. Even when things rattled him, he continually looked for the best in the situation. He'd seemed okay for the last few weeks after losing Jasper, but suddenly, Raven wasn't so sure. What's more, their spat also left Murphy as an uncertain variable.

"So now Murphy is avoiding everyone except Emori. He told Monty to build the radio himself, that there was no one on Earth he wanted to talk to anyway." Raven tried not to sound as dejected as she felt. Without John, she knew she would be the one trying to build and implement each system, which was going to take a while.

Bellamy noticed Raven's hesitancy, but was surprised by her next words.

"Do you think you could talk to him? Murphy, I mean. And maybe Monty if you can. But I need Murphy's help. Monty can still run the Algae Farm, but it's going to take me a month or more to finish an intercom system, radios, and satellites that will actually give us decent contact with the bunker. Otherwise, we'll only be able to contact them a few hours a day."

The words spilled out as she finally unloaded her concerns from the past week. It was cathartic. It felt good to share the reins.

She tilted her head, and almost as an afterthought, reminded Bellamy that she couldn't do this without him, "You're good at getting through to people, Bellamy."

He almost smiled. Without another word, he walked back through the hall toward the guard station.

 _Maybe he'll stick around a little more, now. And now maybe he'll wash his damn hair._

It was late afternoon, and when Bellamy poked his head into Murphy and Emori's makeshift apartment, Emori was curled on the couch like a cat basking in the sun. A skylight illuminated the space, and the room was in a state of disarray- the kind that only comes from reckless passion and ample time. They'd had quite the morning.

Bellamy felt envy and loss twist in his gut, but quelled it quickly. This wasn't about that. This was about Murphy and the comms system. They needed him.

"Emori, where's Murphy?" Bellamy's voice was gruff, but not unkind.

Emori looked up with a sly grin and stretched out, still slightly flushed as she looked over her shoulder.

At the sound of his name, Murphy turned the corner as he pulled on a t-shirt, which stuck to his wet torso. He held a towel to his head to dry his hair still damp from the shower. A look of surprised concern crossed his face as he saw Bellamy.

 _Damn, he looks like hell._

The long hair and beard were surprising enough, but the dark circles under Bellamy's eyes betrayed the fact that hadn't slept well since their first night on the Ring.

"Murphy, we need to talk about the comms system." Bellamy wasted no time. Frankness had always been the best way to reach Murphy.

Murphy's face instantly transformed from a relaxed glow to a hard, protective mask.

"Yeah, well, as far as I can tell, you need them a whole lot more than I do, captain." Murphy sneered, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand. "See, I have everything I need in the world up here already." He glanced lovingly back at Emori, and for a moment, his show of bravado faltered, and Bellamy noticed the tender protectiveness in the way Murphy held himself, even if his words were brash.

"And I don't intend to waste my time on something so useless. I'd rather spend time enjoying our second chance than slaving away at comms that probably won't work, anyway."

"Not all of us have everything up here, Murphy…" The admission was heavy, and he tried to keep his voice level, but Murphy heard it crack.

John Murphy felt like he'd been punched in the gut.

 _Oh. O._

Honestly, Bellamy was the only one of the seven who had someone still on Earth, and everyone knew how much his sister meant to him. She was the only thing he had left.

Monty's outburst had wounded him more than he liked to admit, but afterwards, it was mostly spite and pride that had kept him from returning to the Earth Monitoring System. He hated feeling useless, hated feeling second-rate, and hated getting his hopes up for nothing.

Murphy had balked the job partially because it had felt like the comms would just be another way for _Skai kru_ to keep an eye on them. He'd wanted to be free of that. But here was Bellamy Blake, standing in front of him, asking for his help. Telling him why it mattered. Why it mattered to him.

Growing up, John's favorite story had always been Robin Hood, the righteous thief who stole from the rich to give to the poor. It reminded him of his father. He'd deny it vehemently to anyone who mentioned it; he'd say anyone who tried to steal to help others would always just wind up disappointed and dead, just like his mother had told him after his father was floated. But in his heart, he'd always believed Robin Hood was one of the few good guys, that his father was one of the good guys. Maybe heroes and villains weren't just good and evil, white and black, but sometimes they existed in the gray.

Bellamy reminded him of Robin Hood. He reminded him of the gray.

"Alright. I'll help." Murphy agreed, making Bellamy's head snap up in surprise. Changing Murphy's mind had never been an easy task.

"But I can't promise Monty is gonna want me back."

Bellamy cocked his head to the side, "He might have been on edge about Jasper, but it's not his choice."

Relief swept across John's face, and Emori took note of the way his body shifted toward the door. _He wants this. He wants to be their friends. Five years is a long time, maybe we'll settle in together, after all._

Having Bellamy there brought order, made the fight seem so small, so trivial, and John realized how much they'd missed his presence the last few months.

"C'mon, let's go fix a radio."

And with that, John and Bellamy filed out the door toward the Earth Monitoring System.

 _Today wasn't so bad, after all,_ thought Bellamy as he listened to the sound of their footsteps echo across the hall.


	13. Chapter 11 (part 3 of 3)

**A/N** So, I thought I would have time to write this semester. I was so, so wrong, but the holidays meant that I got some time back to myself, so I hope you enjoy this chapter, even though it's short and sappy.

 **The Bunker: Day 89**

Abby left the Medical Bay later than usual tonight. Her head was pounding from the long day, and pressure was building behind her eyes. She could feel a migraine coming on, an occurrence which had grown more common in the past few weeks. All she wanted was to go home, wrap herself in a blanket, and sleep until the morning.

She needed to sleep more, Jackson was right, but there was simply too much to do in the bunker. They were used to treating this many people, of course. The Ark had housed double this number during her time as head doctor, and while the medical bay was just as well-equipped under the ground as theirs had been above the Earth, she had been feeling particularly out of sorts lately. She worried about Clarke and the other kids in space.

 _Not kids_ , she reminded herself, though she knew she didn't believe it. They would always feel like children to her.

 _How are they going to survive the next five years?_

There were so many ways everything could fail, could come crashing down and end in disaster, so many ways she could lose Clarke. The Ark hadn't been equipped to support life anymore, that was the whole reason they had come down in the first place. Now, her child was back in orbit trying to make the Go-Sci Ring livable.

 _If they made it on the ground, they'll make it back in orbit. She went home. At least it's familiar there._ Still. Earth was more forgiving of mistakes.

Abby's mind was still buzzing as she slid open the door to Marcus' room. He was lying diagonally across the bed, sprawled atop a nest of pillows, with his face nuzzled against the sheets.

Watching his back rise and fall, Abby released a breath and felt her eyes soften.

To see him so vulnerable was a gentle reminder that even if none of them were safe, even if nothing was certain, there were still small joys in the world. Joys like seeing someone you love sleep without worry. Like feeling the soft shirring of clean sheets against bare skin. Like sliding a door shut to block out the rest of the world for a few hours.

Abby hung her jacket on the back of the desk chair and slid out of her pants. Her head was still throbbing, but the anticipation of a warm bed was dulling the ache.

Trying not to disturb Marcus, she pulled up the corner of a sheet and scooted under the covers, tucking her toes so she didn't brush against his warmth. His warmth radiated out across the mattress, and he shifted as she settled her weight onto the bed. Instinctively, he reached out tentatively toward her body, snaking a hand around her waist. Abby's lips curled into a smile as she melted against him. It was good to be home.

Marcus slowly returned to consciousness just as Abby drifted into sleep. Suppressing a yawn, he kissed the side of her head, and she murmured unintelligibly in response, wrinkling her brow and curling a leg around his body. Her hair smelled like rosewater and sweat.

Drifting somewhere between sleep and wake, Marcus wondered how it had taken the end of the world to make him the happiest he had ever been.


	14. Chapter 12 (part 1 of 2)

**A/N:** Hey guys! Sorry it's been forever. I'm officially on winter break now, so _hopefully_ , the goal is to get a good bit of story up in the next few weeks! There are a few feel-good chapters ahead, but I'm excited to see everyone happy- for at least a little while. The goal is to get as much done as possible before February, so hopefully lots of updates between now and then.

 **The Go-Sci Ring: Day 92**

Harper slid out from under the sheets, careful not to wake Monty as she left. Smiling at the sight of his dark, tousled hair against the pillowcase, she makes a mental note to remind him that it might be time for a haircut. She had trimmed it a few times before, but it never ceased to amaze her just how fast it grew.

Tugging on a sports' bra, she made a quick evaluation of her body. Training with Echo and Emori had hardened her muscles the same way training with Lincoln had, and though the algae was always enough to satisfy, it certainly kept them all from overindulging. Her muscles were defined beneath her skin, and she admired them for a moment. She felt strong.

She and Echo had gained a healthy respect for one another, though their interactions were usually limited to the time they spent together in the gym. She admired her hardness, her ferocity, and her loyalty, but there never seemed to be enough opportunities to approach the other woman. Harper figured that if Echo wanted a friend, she would have placed herself in the same spaces. Since she hadn't, Harper figured it was best to give the other woman her space.

In Emori, on the other hand, she had found a true friend. With only seven of them aboard the Ring, finding commonalities was easier than any of them might have imagined, but the simple fact of being stuck in space with someone they loved gave them a shared sense of understanding that was difficult to talk about with anyone else. It wasn't exactly "girl talk," but they still enjoyed the little bit of relief it was to talk about their relationship to someone who understood, even if that understanding was still limited.

Harper slid open the hallway door and slipped out into the hall, watching the lights along the walkway at her feet flicker on to illuminate the path to their closet gym. Despite her hand, or perhaps because of it, Emori was a formidable sparring partner. Weakness was not tolerated on the ground- she simply had to be stronger. So she was.

But today, Harper needed to win. The stress of the last week had died down now that Monty and Murphy were getting along again, at least passably, but Harper still felt a rolling energy knotted in her stomach. She still blamed herself for Monty's hands not healing all the way.

 _If Abby had been here, or Jackson, or Clark or_ any _competent doctor, he would still have his sense of touch. They could have healed the nerve damage._

What made it worse was that, after all the time she had spent reading manuals, she realized very plainly that there _had_ been ways to ease the nerve damage, or at least treat it sooner. If she had known anything about medicine, she could have saved his hands. By saving his hands, she could have prevented the fallout between Monty and Murphy, and they would all be talking to the Bunker by now.

If only she had known how to treat him sooner.

If only she had loved him sooner, maybe he wouldn't hold on to so much guilt about Jasper.

If only she had tried to convince Jasper, actually tried, maybe he would have come with them. Maybe he would still be alive. Maybe Monty would still have his best friend.

She tried to stop the swirl of thoughts in her head, but Harper knew it was no use; only a long, hard run and some sparring would clear her head. She knew Monty didn't blame her for those things, and neither did the others.

It didn't make it any easier to forgive herself.

Opening the door to the gym, Harper saw Emori running along the treadmill in a tank top and shorts, her hand unbandaged and swinging beside her body. Harper tried not to look taken aback.

Even at her freest, drunk and dancing in the moonlight after their first batch of moonshine, Emori always kept herself covered, especially her hand. Though the other residents of the Ring had often seen Murphy and Emori in the afterglow of sex: Murphy shirtless and laughing, Emori was always at least loosely dressed, hand carefully covered. This new freeness was almost unsettling, but certainly welcome.

Emori had found a home in the Ring that was so unlike anything she'd ever known, and for the first time, the weight of that really struck Harper. The girl who had been an outsider her whole life, who held such a sense of self-loathing based on the way she was born, this woman who had fought against the entire world, now felt safe enough, secure enough, to uncover herself, even if it was in the privacy of the gym in the earliest hours of the morning.

Emori didn't particularly like running. She often felt she'd done too much of it her whole life. But there was something wonderfully distracting in the rhythmic slam of her feet against the belt that felt just right this morning.

She stiffened when she heard the door slide open, but relaxed almost imperceptibly when she realized it was Harper.

 _Harper._

She had a lot of respect for that woman. Never one to back down, always up for a fight, and had the courage to look her own darkness in the face. Emori was still learning to do that, some days.

Gradually, she slowed the treadmill, and hopped onto the ground, painfully aware that her hand was unbound, but thankful that the other woman had refrained from staring. Sweat pricking against her temples, Emori smiled as she saw the tension beneath Harper's shoulders.

She wanted to fight.

Good.

The stresses between their significant others were not lost on either woman, and now that the air was cleared between them, they finally felt like they could return to their old routines.

Harper wasn't sure what Bellamy had said to soothe Murphy's hurt and put his ego in check, and Emori didn't know how Bellamy had reminded Monty that Jasper's decisions were his own, but that those decisions didn't mean Jasper didn't love them, and that Monty needed to have new friendships- not just for his sanity, but for all their survival. That tolerance wasn't going to cut it up here. That they had to be a team.

But even though neither knew exactly what took place in the conversations, they knew enough to know that the fight was over and that they could return to sparring without worrying about offending their lover. It was good to be back, but that didn't mean all the tension was gone.

Both Harper and Emori were fiercely protective, and even though they knew there was no real quarrel, their prides would not let them lose easily this morning.

As Emori wrapped her hand and braided her hair, Harper stretched in preparation for their match, folding her body into itself as she mentally drilled herself against Emori's fighting style.

Finally, Harper and Emori both lowered into position, and they sparred.

Twenty minutes and three matches later, the two women left sore, bloodied, and bruised. Harper had a split lip and a flurry of green bruises across her legs and arms, and Emori's hips and legs were already flowering into purple splotches. Exhausted, they parted ways in the hall, throwing back one last look of admiration before they turned back to their rooms.

It was a tough fight. Harper won.

Emori was sitting at the edge of the pond when Bellamy walked into the Algae Farm. Her hair hung loosely down her back, wavy from the braid she had worn sparring this morning. Though he couldn't see it from behind, a spool of wire sat in her lap, and she was fiddling with it as she sang under her breath. Bellamy had never heard her sing before. Even Murphy had only ever caught the end of a song.

She looked happy. Bellamy wondered the last time she had been happy on Earth. He wondered how much happiness he had already missed up here.

He had only visited the Algae Farm a handful of times, never able to bring himself too close to the others, though he wouldn't admit it, even to himself.

As pitiful as it made him feel, seeing them happy and safe hurt in ways he didn't know how to handle. He was glad they were together, but he felt like an imposter, like he could never be worthy of that peace.

The dock groaned beneath his boots, and Emori's singing stopped as she turned to face him.

"Bellamy. How's the green stuff?" Her mouth was flat, but a smile hid behind her eyes as she gestured toward the thin crackers in his hands.

Murphy had been experimenting with texture, and this week's experiment was small bars with crunchy pieces of algae embedded throughout. It wasn't much of an improvement, but everyone appreciated it significantly more than Murphy's attempts to make a palatable soup.

Bellamy's lips twitched as he fought back a full smile. "The green stuff is pretty good, one of his better recipes."

Emori seemed unfazed, but Bellamy knew she was glowing from his praise of Murphy. It wasn't hard to see how much she loved him.

"Mind if I sit?"

The question seemed to take Emori by surprise, even though she must have realized he would ask. But Bellamy simply hadn't made a habit of interacting with any of them since they'd arrived in space, so it was still a strange adjustment to suddenly see him everywhere.

Without an answer, Emori patted the space beside her on the dock, and Bellamy lowered himself to the ground.

They sat in silence for a few moments, and Emori returned to the wire in her lap. Twisting the wire in intricate coils, a bird was beginning to take shape beneath her fingers.

Bellamy was taken aback by the detail of the feathers, and more than a little impressed by how much she managed to do, even with her deformed hand. He tried not to seem surprised, but he knew it must have shown in his expression, because Emori flipped the bird over to reveal the silvery wire that coiled along the bird's breast.

"Is it a raven?" Bellamy asked, his analysis thrown by the light feathers along its underside.

Emori glanced to the side and the left corner of her lip turned up, "Actually, it's a mockingbird."

Bellamy raised an eyebrow. The name was familiar, but he couldn't quite place it. His brow furrowed for a moment while he thought.

Suddenly, his eyes widened and he shot a look to Emori, "They echo back songs, right? People would sing to them and they'd sing back?"

A warm smile spread across Emori's face, all smugness gone and pleased he knew about the bird. _So Space Kru knows something after all._ The bird was for Harper, though now that he mentioned it, she thought she might like to make a raven for Raven.

"It helps me keep busy. Even though there is plenty to do up here, it gives me something else to do just for me. It reminds me of the Earth. Of my brother."

Emori had collected found things from an early age. Such was the life for scavengers. They were her playthings, and her brother had taught her how to see animals and plants and people hidden within objects. It just took the right touch to coax them out. She'd always been afraid her had would keep them hidden inside, but with a little persistence, the figures always crept out from the scraps.

The revelation was one of the most intimate details Bellamy had ever gotten from Emori. That said, he also suspected it was her way of nudging him to find something to occupy his time. _What's going to keep me from going crazy up here?_ The thought beat against his temples, but he didn't have an answer. He wasn't sure if he ever would.

The two of them sat, shoulder to shoulder without saying a word, but after a while, Emori began singing under her breath again, most of the words in _Trigedasleng,_ but a few words of English came up, occasionally.

Bellamy remembered just enough to know she was singing about the place where the desert and the sea met, with the ocean waves crashing across the sand. It was hauntingly beautiful.

It was late in the evening by the time Emori finally stood up to go home. Bellamy walked with her, glad that the silence between them wasn't awkward. He had grown used to silence lately.

Emori walked him home first, smiling as he opened the door to the other housing unit they had left for him before she slid open the door to her own guard station home, and slid under the covers next to Murphy.

For the first time in thirteen weeks, Bellamy slept in the housing unit they had left for him.

For the first time in thirteen weeks, Bellamy slept through the night without jarring awake from a nightmare.

For the first time since she was a child, Emori slept with her hand unbound.


	15. Chapter 12 (part 2 of 2)

**A/N:** I know, I know, I've neglected Octavia for so long! The Bunker is easily the hardest because we got very, very little information about it in Season 4, and it's not ever made clear who all is in the bunker… That said, I know we get to see a **very** dark Octavia in Season 5, but I really like to believe that she didn't start out that way. In fact, I like to think she makes leaps and bounds to come away from her darkness in the space between Season 4 and Season 5, but that she falls back into it, falling harder and farther than we've ever seen from her. (I have a lot of writing to do before February, oh dear.)

 **The Bunker: Day 92**

Octavia strode through the halls toward the Children's Wing, spine straight, head forward. She practically floated across the ground. Her personal guard walked beside and behind her, five men, all tall and brutish, covered in warriors' marks from head to toe.

Huset was the largest of the five, half of his face obscured by a series of intricate tattoos. The rest of his body was covered in a tapestry of tattoos that detailed not only his history as a warrior, but also of his clan, _Delfikru._ The black ink stood out in relief against his copper-toned skin- tree lines, constellations, and ghostly suggestions of plants and animals created a hauntingly beautiful scene.

His tattoos were unusual, even by Grounder standards, but they made him unmistakable.

That was the kind of presence Octavia looked for in her guardsmen.

As they entered the Children's Wing, Octavia paused for a half of a beat, eyes flashing. To her immediate pleasure, Nyc was already standing to the side, waiting for her, a knife in his belt.

Niylah was kneeling beside a bunk where a sick _Skaikru_ girl lay shivering when Octavia and her party entered. Slowly, she rose to her feet, tucking a piece of blanket back around the girl.

"Heda." Niylah bowed her head slightly, paying proper courtesy to the Commander, but her eyes betrayed a hint of excitement, and a bit of fear.

"Punctual as always." Niylah bobbed her head, then gestured to the boy standing near the entrance, "Nyc is waiting for you. He's been looking forward to his lessons. He's been practicing."

There was a renewed fire in Octavia tonight, and not for the first time, Niylah thought that Octavia killing his father had been a great stroke of luck for both the Commander and the boy. Nyc was happier now, had a renewed sense of purpose with someone who believed in him, and Octavia… If Niylah didn't know better, she'd say that Octavia was remembering what it was to love again.

Not romantic love, of course. Niylah privately doubted rather the young Commander would ever love that way again, though she believed the heart was a funny, fickle thing. Love always found a way through.

But in Nyc, Octavia had found a rapt pupil: strong, shy, and free-spirited. He was, in many ways, as wild as she was, but he took a bit of coaxing sometimes. Quick to anger, quick to apologize, he was well-behaved, but matched the Commander's fiery personality.

Octavia was independent to a fault, sometimes. The responsibility of the bunker weighed heavily, but not nearly as much as the added weight of a child did. Though she pushed him hard, it was no secret, except perhaps to Nyc himself, that Octavia adored the boy.

They trained together every day, often alongside Indra, Gaia, and Akron, since he was the _Azgeda_ councilmember. Nyc was learning to fight as no Grounder had ever learned before. He was learning to fight from _Skairippa._

Nyc learned more than just combat, and in teaching, Octavia found that she learned alongside him. Nyc learned to read and write alongside the other children in the bunker, but he also learned tact and diplomacy. He learned about every station in the bunker, and every _kru_ and their land.

Octavia was preparing him to be a leader of all their people.

It was an era past nightblood. These children needed something else in their veins to lead a new life on a ravaged planet. They needed guts, they needed intelligence, and they needed to be both warriors and peacemakers.

Octavia knew about death.

She was trying to teach Nyc about life.

After Octavia thanked Niylah, she spun on her heels, and Nyc followed after her.

"Where are we going, Heda?" Nyc was quick to ask questions, but usually didn't speak while they walked together. This time, however, Octavia was not leading them back to the gym or the library, so he wasn't sure where their lessons would take place today.

A smile darkened Octavia's face, and she glanced down at the young boy, wiry hair cut close to his scalp, giving the appearance of a soft down above his large, dark eyes.

"Today is more of a practical lesson. About why it is important to listen to everything that happens around you." The answer was vague, and Octavia knew it did little to placate his curiosity. Oh well. That was just the way it was, sometimes.

They walked in silence, Nyc looking up at Octavia every few minutes to see if he could read her. Her face remained a mask of indifference, but inside her head, a thousand thoughts were milling.

She had gotten word from Miller a few weeks ago that there were some tensions rising amongst some factions of _Podakru_ and _Sankru._ After she had killed the men in the quarrel, a surge of dissent had passed through some of the upper class in the bunker, and it seemed like some of that anger was being misdirected at those in the lowest castes, especially _Sankru,_ which was often looked down on for their proximity to the wastelands.

Some of the tension was visible to everyone, but her guard had a talent for keeping an ear out for trouble, as did Gaia.

Twenty minutes ago, three people from _Sankru_ had been caught attempting to destroy one of the filters in the hydraulics chamber. Had they succeeded, the bunker would have been thrown into chaos for a few hours while the electricians tried to rewire their generators to take care of the croplands and the potable water.

Octavia knew very well what might have happened in the few hours it would have taken to restore normalcy. All resources would have been diverted to saving essential machinery. Power would have been turned off or limited in less-essential areas. It was a revolutionary's dream, and a leader's nightmare.

 _They'll have to pay for this treachery with their lives._ There was no other way. The thought irritated Octavia when she was rational enough to consider the implications more death would have on their chances back on the ground, but mercy was something she found to be of little value in the bunker.

Still… She wanted to do better. She wanted to prove to Marcus and Akron that there was a way to rule and to lead without so much bloodshed, but so long as people insisted on trying her, she knew the only way was death.

Still, she wanted to see what Nyc would have to say. She hoped, partially, that there was a simple solution that she had failed to find that his eleven-year old brain would present before her like the obvious choice. She also wanted to see the kind of leader he would be. Would he be able to pronounce death? Would he avoid it at all costs? Would he revel in it the way she sometimes did? Would he refuse to decide? There was only one way to find out.

As they rounded the corner that led to the hydro plant, Nyc's eyes bulged at the scene in front of them.

Two _Sankru_ men and a _Sankru_ woman were being dragged out to the middle of the square from wherever they had been detained for the last half hour. The guards wrestled with them as they fought and kicked against the movement, but Octavia's guards pushed them to their knees in front of the Commander and her second.

No pity glinted in Octavia's smile as she drew her sword, but hesitation flickered in Nyc's face. Octavia stalked toward the trio as they knelt in the square. The guard had informed her of their names, and she called them out to the square to their visible discomfort.

"Would you care to tell the people gathered here why my guards apprehended you this morning attempting to sabotage a hydraulic filter?" Octavia's voice, as always, cut the prisoners to the quick. Staring open-mouthed, none could make a sound.

Octavia spun out to face the gathering crowd. The members of the Council had been summoned shortly after she had collected Nyc, and were just now arriving. Octavia had wanted an audience, but she also knew better than to administer justice on her own this time. This time, the Council would be present, but she would still deal the final blow.

"Knives, an axe, and a homemade explosive device were found in your possession, as were the blueprints to the hydro plant. Did you or did you not intend to cause damage that would affect every other person living in this bunker?" The Commander wasted no time in presenting the incriminating evidence.

One of the men, the younger one, with tousled brown hair and sunken eyes, spat stringy mucus in her direction. The yellow missile struck her ankle, but Octavia didn't even flinch. Her eyes burned into him, hatred radiating plainly, but her voice was cool.

"Do you deny such action?"

The man glared up at her, but refused to answer. The crowd shifted uneasily. Without a confession, Octavia's story was simply that: a story.

The woman was the one to finally break the standoff. She had been hanging her head, but in that moment, she let her face harden, and lifted her face to stare back at this young, inexperienced girl before her.

The woman did not see a Commander, she saw an aggressive, spiteful child, all spindly limbs and tattoos with ink that still hadn't set in. She saw a girl who was not ready to lead them all. She saw Octavia's anger, but like so many before her, she mistook it for fear and weakness.

"We would have done this and more. Our survival should not rest on _you,_ girl." The woman spat the words, bile rising in her throat.

"You and _Skai kru_ are too soft. Even _Trikru_ and _Azgeda_ have grown soft, milk bellies with you in charge. The Council barely worked when Lexa was Heda, and now, you come along, feet too small to ever fill a true Commander's shoes. You will _never_ be the leader our people need. _Sankru_ felt this injustice more strongly than others. We wanted another council. We wanted another Heda. You, girl, are not fit to wear the mark."

Octavia hissed in anger, but stilled her arm before she struck out at the woman.

She lifted her chin toward the Council. "Is this confession enough for the Council, or do you need to hear more?"

The Council gaped, dumbfounded, but no one made a sound.

Octavia turned to Nyc, and tried to quiet the fire burning through her throat and down her arms.

"Nyc. A leader has to understand that there will always be people who disagree with the way you lead, and disagree with your vision. Tell me, what do you do when those disagreements turn to treason that would hurt all your people?"

Nyc looked up at Octavia, clearly overwhelmed, but also proud of her trust in him. She really wanted his opinion; she really valued he thoughts.

Nyc took a moment to consider the wretchedness of the prisoners in front of him, and while he thought, he bent down to wipe the spit from Octavia's ankle with his sleeve. He looked at the sunken eyes of the men and woman, their tattered clothing, and their gaunt frames. These people really did believe they needed a stronger Commander. They believed Octavia wasn't hard enough. For people who didn't like her, the only way to prove that she could be ruthless would be for her to be ruthless. The thought unsettled him, but he knew that there was no way around it. These people wanted something, but they were willing to hurt everyone to get it. Octavia couldn't waste mercy on people who would have hurt them all to get a new leader.

"They were willing to hurt innocent people. Everyone knows we rely on the hydro plant for everything. Mercy is important, but so is order. A leader has to know when treason deserves death."

His answer was so eloquent and well-spoken, it was met with murmurs from the crowd. He had always been a precocious child, but his lessons were having an effect.

Octavia was proud, but she wanted to push him just a little more: "Is this one of those times?"

Nyc shuffled, almost imperceptibly, "I don't know if there's ever a right answer for that down here, Heda. But I think their crime is against all of us, but especially you. I think this time warrants death."

A cold chill passed along the square. Though everyone could have expected as much, it still was eerie to hear the proclamation from a child who was not yet Heda.

"Well then. Council. Do you have any objections?" An emotionless mask had fallen across Octavia's face as she glared in the direction of each Councilmember. No objection was voiced.

Octavia looked around the room, scanning the faces that watched her uneasily, uncertain if she would really kill the traitors in front of them. She wet her lips and almost smiled. _If there's one thing I know, it's that I'm a killer. This I can do._

In two steps, she walked to the prisoners, and slit each of their throats. The execution was over before the crowd could gasp.

Hot blood pooled at her feet, and the lifeless bodies fell. Some dark thing lurking inside her mind breathed a sigh of relief. _Blood must have blood._

Octavia wiped the blood from her sword, sheathed it, and spun toward the door, cocking her head as a signal for her guard and Nyc to accompany her.

Adrenaline still pumping through her, Octavia walked to the rhythm of her heartbeat, feet pulsing against the ground. Nyc all but had to run to keep up with her as the rest of her guard was left to dispose of the bodies.

When she was sure no one else could hear them anymore, Octavia looked sideways at Nyc, who was keeping pace at her side.

"Mercy is not always weakness. But today, it would have been. There are always going to be hard calls to make. Our job is to make them, especially when we don't want to."

Nyc looked up at her, mimicking her impassive mask, but the effect was nearly ruined by his thick lashes and brown eyes. He would make a handsome warrior, someday.

Seeing his face, Octavia continued.

"Who we are, and who we have to be to survive can't always be the same person."


	16. Chapter 13a

**A/N:** Hey guys! Thanks for continuing to read, this has been so much fun to write, and it's nice to "keep in touch" with the characters. I have more time to write the next two weeks, so I'll be trying to update a little more regularly, so hopefully we'll move a little farther in the time jump!

 **The Ring: Day 100**

It had been one hundred days since they had arrived on the Go-Sci Ring.

One hundred days since Bellamy had returned to his childhood home.

One hundred days since he'd left O. all alone in that bunker.

One hundred days since he left Clarke to die so they could save themselves.

One hundred days.

Most days, Bellamy was sure he was getting better. He thought it was starting to hurt less.

And then sometimes, without any warning, everything crashed back down on him, and he felt lost.

Soon, he knew Raven would have the comms up and running, and he'd hear Octavia's voice again. But in the meantime, not knowing anything about what she was doing, about _how_ she was doing, was killing him.

He wondered about Kane. Hoped that he was taking care of Octavia, though he doubted she would let Kane do much hovering. Bellamy knew Indra would watch over her, knew she was strong enough to handle Octavia, even when she was furious at the world.

He knew Octavia was strong enough to handle the bunker. A tiny piece of him wondered if the bunker was strong enough to handle her.

Octavia had certainly grown into a spitfire. She was tough. She had to be.

Bellamy had tried to make sure she grew up tougher than the rest of the world that would hurt her if it could. He's read her every myth he'd ever heard. She had more magic in her than all those gods and goddesses combined.

And she could be just as ruthless.

He shivered, knowing that she would be okay, but also knowing that he didn't really know that. Didn't know she was safe. Didn't know what had happened.

Anything could happen down there, underneath the radiation-soaked earth.

 _I wish Kane were here._

The thought snuck up on him, and for a moment, surprised him. He _did_ miss Kane, though the thought hadn't consciously occurred to him before that moment. It had been nice to share the weight sometimes, even though he knew he could never really let him take much of the load.

 _I wish Clarke were here._

This time, the thought sucked the air from his lungs. Having her by his side meant truly sharing the weight of their decisions. Even if both of them always wanted to bear the heaviness alone.

He thought about the tired resignation in her eyes, the way her jaw set when she made a decision, the way her eyebrow perked when an idea came to her. He thought about the pitch of her voice as it broke when they were both in the bunker, her begging him not to go. He thought about the way her hair touched her collarbone. He thought about the black blood on her chin when they realized the nightblood wasn't enough.

Bellamy had been pacing the floor of the housing unit, but here he was, frozen in place. He had loved her. She had been _right there_ and he'd been too afraid to realize, too afraid to tell her. Too afraid of what would happen if he told her. Too afraid she might not love him back.

At least not the way he loved her.

And now she was gone.

And he was here.

One hundred days in space.

One hundred days with six others who still needed him.

Bellamy began pacing again, and his head was starting to clear. Slowly, he walked to the door and slid it open. He needed some air. He walked to the Earth Monitoring Center, hoping that maybe Raven would have a project to distract him.

One hundred days.

One hundred days _in space._

Echo could hardly believe it. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined that she would have ended up high above the Earth's surface, hurtling across the heavens, and looking down at the Earth. The Earth that was her home.

Echo and Raven lounged on a couch in the Earth Monitoring Lab, feet up on the coffee table, angled slightly toward one another, but neither talking.

They sat like this often, not having much to say, but both enjoying the company.

It was lonely in space, even in the relatively close quarters.

Monty and Harper had each other, Murphy and Emori had each other, and Bellamy had spent so much time alone. After long days of work, Raven was often too exhausted to do anything besides enjoy an amicable silence, which Echo had no problem with.

Raven was always tinkering with things, and since the Algae Farm and the water reclaimer were still in their infancy, everything required constant checkups.

She sorted through junk, tried to see breakdowns before they happened, and constantly made piles for new projects. She would keep them alive if it was the last thing she did.

Sometimes, Echo was the only one around when a part needed to be salvaged or adjusted, so the two had learned to work as a team. Though Echo was still uneasy around tech, she was always willing to do whatever needed done, regardless of time of day, or however unpleasant the task.

Just last week, there had been a clog in the Algae Farm tubes that fed into the vat they would use to make biofuel. It was lucky, really, that the clog had happened so early and in a non-critical place so Raven had a chance to fix the rest of the tubes so they could avoid a real problem in the future.

Nonetheless, it meant that Raven had needed Echo to wade into the pond to clear the algae. It had been sticky, smelly work, but Echo had obliged without batting an eye. Secretly, it had made her feel more alive that she'd felt in weeks. There was something so comforting about the algae, about the green life all around her, that Echo hadn't minded in the least.

Now, Raven felt herself relax in the midday sun that shone into the lab from a skylight above them. Things were going well. Nothing serious had gone wrong in their three months here, and things were starting to settle into a daily rhythm. Bellamy was getting better, Monty was getting better, John was getting better, Harper was doing fine, and Echo Emori seemed to be adjusting to space quite well.

"I think you should come train with us." Echo's voice cut into Raven's thoughts, and she blinked back in mild confusion.

"What? What are you talking about, Echo?" Her voice was measured. She didn't particularly like the idea of training. Didn't like the idea of always being the weakest. In her lab, she was useful. She fixed problems. She was a mechanic, an architect, an engineer, and a designer. She was a one-woman show for all their problems on board. In a fight, she was useless.

Even before she was shot, she wasn't much of a fighter. And now she wouldn't stand a chance in a fight unless she had a gun.

"I think you should spar with us," Echo continued, "Harper and Emori and I have been sparring, and I know Monty and Murphy have fought some. Bellamy, too, now that he's been… around."

Raven noticed the way Echo paused around Bellamy's absence, but ignored it for the moment.

"I won't do any good as a fighter, Echo. If I ever get into a real fight, this little baby has got me done for." Raven gestured to her leg, hitting the metal brace with the flat of her palm. The metallic clang reverberated in the room, but Echo just frowned.

"That doesn't matter. You're a fighter, Raven." It was a statement. Echo's voice was hard, but it softened as she continued, "And you need to do something besides just holding everything and everyone together up here."

Raven still didn't look convinced. Echo took on a harder edge again.

"Harper mentioned it. I just thought you should know. I'd like to fight with you some time. You can still fight even with you leg. There are warriors who have had worse and are still formidable."

Raven tried not to roll her eyes, but felt a bit of warmth settle in her stomach. It was nice to be wanted.

"I'll think about it. It might do me some good to get out of this lab every now and then."

Echo smiled. She'd hoped Raven would come around. It was all they could do to keep from going crazy up here.

Just then, there was a frantic knock at the door. Raven stumbled to her feet, cursing herself for considering their luck in avoiding any major issues thus far.

But when she slid the door open, there stood a disheveled Bellamy, eyes hollow, looking defeated.

"It's been a hundred days."

Raven didn't know what to say. It was as though they were all sitting underwater, the air had grown so heavy.

Wordlessly, she pulled him into a hug. She wanted to tell him it would be okay, but she didn't have the words.

He didn't need them. In that moment, knowing she was there was enough. Echo stood soundlessly and laid a hand on his shoulder.

The three of them stood together in the doorway, Bellamy folded in Raven's arms, and Echo's arms around them both.

One hundred days down. One thousand, seven hundred and twenty-five to go.


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N:** Updates actually happen occasionally! Thank you guys for continuing to read, I know it's been forever.

 **The Bunker: Day 100**

It had been one hundred days since the bunker had been sealed.

Octavia felt more than a small surge of pride that they were still alive.

Gaia had become invaluable guidance for the council, and though the Council was slow, tedious, and insufferable, it was working. A sense of order had fallen over the bunker, and people seemed to finally be settling into a daily rhythm of life in which everyone took part. There were still tensions and divisions, but Octavia thought that they might eventually produce a sense of unity. For just a moment, she let relief wash over her.

 _We're actually doing alright down here, Bell._

But one hundred days of survival also meant one hundred days since she had last seen him, last heard his voice.

A sharp pang hit her suddenly, and she sucked in her breath. The intensity of the pain caught her by surprise, and for a moment, it pushed against her carefully formed façade- even when they had been separated on the Ark, she'd never felt so completely isolated. Her eyes pressed closed and she felt herself shrinking into herself.

 _I can do this. I_ _ **have**_ _done this._

She repeated the thought several times, and slowly, the visible tension left her body. It never left completely, but it never had. Never once on the Ark. Never on the ground.

 _Maybe once._

Parting her lips, she let out a shaky breath. The memory of safety bubbled into her conscious, but the pain it brought was so sharp and so consuming that she shoved the thought back with a roughness and urgency that she hoped would one day fade.

The ache that Lincoln left in her was something that, for all her strength, she could never touch without feeling herself crumble. She couldn't dwell on it, neither her sanity nor her duty to her people would let her.

She wasn't ready to mourn, yet; there was too much fight left in this war.

Now, as it always had been, the war was for survival. The difference was their enemy. And this time, more than ever, that enemy was themselves.

Octavia sighed.

Her thoughts already had a tendency to run in circles, and it was only the third month underground. Every hint at optimism was always shadowed by the crushing reality of their situation.

 _Still. One hundred days is a victory I'll take._

Octavia sat back in her chair and waited for Kane and Nyc to arrive with today's agenda for the Council's meeting.

 _Let Day 100 begin.  
_

Marcus Kane closed the door behind him as he walked into his living quarters. Sitting heavily on the edge of the bed, he ran a hand through his steadily-graying hair. No matter how often he dealt with the other delegates, there will still days that drained him.

Today had been one of the more difficult days. The Farm sector was not progressed at the expected rate, and the report had raised concerns over the way the Council, and, more notably, _Skai kru,_ had delegated authority within the sector. The assurances of citizens from Farm Sector that this was just a minor blip in expected progress fell flat to the rest of the Council, who were unsettled by any mistake.

Kane couldn't blame them. One mistake, and they would all die.

Dragging his fingers down the sides of his face, he sighed. The union of the _krus_ would be an uphill battle every day they remained underground.

He slid off his jacket and boots and pulled the covers up on his side of the bed. Abby had been working late most days now, and while he knew things would settle back into a more manageable schedule as she trained other healers to use the systems in the bunker, she was starting to burn herself out with the hours she worked. It'd been over a week since they'd slept at the same time, and Marcus was suspicious that Abby wasn't sleeping nearly as much as she claimed.

She was becoming nervous, almost paranoid. If someone showed up to the clinic without an appointment, they were just as likely to find a scolding as a sympathetic ear, and Marcus had experienced his fair share of her irritation the last two weeks. Though she'd stopped mentioning them, he suspected her migraines were getting worse, and it made him uneasy.

Abby had been under enormous pressure lately to do baseline health reports and to train new medical personnel, and of course, Clarke's absence took its own toll. But Marcus couldn't help but worry that something else was wrong.

 _Maybe I can convince her to stay home tomorrow. The Council won't need me, and Jackson can take care of the clinic for a day._

A smile tugged at his lips at the thought, and as he drifted off to sleep, he remembered that today was a landmark.

 _One hundred days. I think that's something to celebrate._

Thelonius Jaha sat on the edge of a network of piping, face illuminated in fragments from the flashing urgency of the emergency lighting.

Three other figures sit around him, obscured by the intermittent blackness of the boiler room. "Room" was really an understatement, however, since the centralized mechanical equipment for the bunker created a sort of labyrinth that, while heavily secured from the outside, served as the perfect meeting place for those not wishing to be overheard.

As the designated servant of his people and of _Won kru,_ Jaha had already managed to gain a few admirers. There were still many among _Won kru_ who did not agree with their forced truce, those who saw virtue in Jaha's ruthlessness, and still more who recognized that the creation of _Won kru_ might have been necessary for their immediate survival, but believed that such peace could never exist when the bunker opened again. When they returned to the surface, they felt sure that divisions would reappear, and they intended to make sure that this time, they would fracture along different lines of power.

Jaha had spent many long and lonely nights thinking about their future when they reemerged to the surface, thinking about the world that awaited them. This time, he was certain, the Earth would not be able to provide for all of them the way it had before _praimfaya._ The Earth would be ravaged by radiation and would not give up her resources easily. Only the strongest could survive in this new land, and Thelonius knew that he could not have survived this long, through _so much,_ had it not been his destiny to guide his people to this new land. So much had been lost. It was all for nothing if it wasn't rebuilt in faith, if his people wasted their second chance.

So, in his time working for each station, Jaha had begun quietly sharing his concerns- and his vision.

In the blinking lights of the HVAC equipment, Jaha smiles gently at the young faces looking up at him, full of fear and full of hope.

Today was Day 100 in the bunker, and already, people were listening. Octavia and the Council were not as good at keeping order as they believed, and Thelonius had offered their people a new goal in which they could preserve their deepest beliefs- that only the strong deserved the Earth. That they were the strong.

He had offered them hope of a bright new future, but it would not be an easy or bloodless path to their destiny. Luckily, no one in the bunker was a stranger to sacrifice or loss. It was simply another war, but a longer one; one that would be fought quietly on the fringes of society.

This was a war for the future of humankind, and Thelonius had his first recruits.


	18. Chapter 13c

**A/N:** Hey everyone! So, yeah, it hasn't even been a full year yet, but don't worry, the mini time skips are going to start lengthening! I have a timeline written out and there is indeed a plan to get them through the next six years. I realized how much is happening in the first few months of separation, so ended up spending a little (lot) more time than I anticipated on the beginning. Anyways, happy Spring Break (if this is your Spring Break)!

 **Earth: Day 104**

Clarke carved a diagonal line across the latest set of vertical marks on the wall. One hundred.

The irony was not lost on her.

One hundred to the ground. One hundred from each _kru._ One hundred days alone.

One hundred days on the surface. One hundred days in more isolation than any human before her. A quiet numbness settled across the room as she remembered her complete separation from the rest of humanity.

All around her lay the portraits of her friends, her mother, the people she loved. She was still far from completing her portrait series, but she'd been drawing and reading for three weeks straight, and she'd reached a point where she simply could not draw any longer. She needed a break.

So, she'd started sorting through the computer files left in the bunker. Much like Murphy, she had watched Chris's suicide countless times, but unlike Murphy, she had far more sympathy for Chris's thought process.

She understood what it was like to unknowingly orchestrate death. She also knew what it was like to know the outcome and still choose it.

 _So many people._

What she was hoping to find in the bunker's computer files was a way to get herself off this island, or at least contact those in the bunker under Polis, but she didn't even know where to begin. Clarke was nearly the farthest the Ark had from an engineer, but she figured the next few years would give her ample time to practice.

Luckily, it seemed that the original creators of the lighthouse bunker, likely Becca and Chris themselves, had eclectic taste. In addition to expensive wine and motorcycles, they had also collected and stockpiled their fair share of unusual books. She might not be a prodigy, but Clarke would teach herself enough to get by. She could make a radio. She could fix up the rover.

Standing in the kitchen, she opened a small ration container and ate a spoonful of black beans as she pulled up the computer file that displayed a large map. The lighthouse and the surrounding area stood out in vivid relief, showing each mark of elevation in meticulous detail. She needed to be out there if she was going to survive.

She needed a plan.

The bunker could only support her for another few months, and the Earth wouldn't be habitable for five years.

 _Well, five years minus a hundred days._

Right. So, five years.

And the food supply she had would only last about three more months.

She needed a way to scavenge food. Everything outside would be destroyed or radioactive, which meant she needed a way to travel without succumbing to the effects of radiation sickness, and a way to filter water outside the lighthouse bunker.

"First things first, I need a way to get to the shore, and then I can figure out how to get to the mainland. Hopefully the boat survived _praimfaya,_ but there's no guarantee of that."

Clarke spoke aloud, but it seemed as though the walls swallowed the sound. Her voice still caught on some syllables; there were some things even her nightblood couldn't heal. She wasn't sure her voice would ever sound quite the same, and she wasn't sure she wholly minded; she sounded older now, more cautious.

She needed a plan.

Three days ago, she'd made a short venture out of the bunker- the first time she'd stepped back out into the outside world in over two months. The chalky gray skeletons of trees lay on the ground, shattered by the radiation storm that leached the life from the land, but a few clung upright in the dusty soil.

The island was a wasteland.

So complete was the devastation that Clarke almost couldn't find her way to where she hoped the rover would be, but after a several stumbling moments in what she assumed was the right direction, she caught a glimpse of the black metal between the trees.

She had tried everything she could think of the coax it back to life, but the rover was stubbornly dormant. As far as she could tell, there was nothing about the meltdown that should have caused the rover to fail, so she was at a loss for what to try next. The good news, it seems, was that this meant that the problem was probably something routine, and theoretically, something she could fix. Clarke just had to figure out how.

When she had returned to the lighthouse, she'd spent the afternoon paging through Chris and Becca's book collection, searching for anything that might help her understand the problem with the rover. There had been a few books that looked promising, but so far, she could find nothing of real value. The rover was still very much dead, and she was still stranded.

The computer files were not proving any more helpful, and she was starting to realize she might need to consider other ways to get to the shore.

Her eyes drifted to the motorcycles in the hall, and a gleefully dangerous thought crossed her mind.

 _I wonder…_

She was almost afraid to finish the thought; she was not usually one for reckless decisions, but these days, there was no one else left to protect. Reckless didn't hold much meaning when you were the only one left.

A smile crept across her face.

 _I wonder if they left the gasoline._


End file.
